Golden Ashes
by Apollo888
Summary: Following Mary and Matthew through their changing lives, adjusting to newfound fame, planning their future together, and facing the cutthroat nature of show business. A Mary and Matthew modern AU saga. Part of the Celebrity series beginning with Six Months of Summer. The sequel to Stormbraver.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

 **Nozawa Bar, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 4, 2018**

"Ah, here's something you shouldn't have any problem with," Mary declared, smiling when the small bowls of passion fruit sorbet were placed before them.

"I didn't have a problem with any of it," Matthew grumbled, picking up his dessert spoon. "I'm just being careful, is all."

She rolled her eyes and took a small bite of the sorbet. Since landing in Los Angeles in the early afternoon, they'd been struggling to adjust to the time change. The flight from London was close to twelve hours long, and they resisted taking a kip when they arrived here in favour of going to the gym, trying to stay awake for as long as possible. Dinner was absolutely delicious, the concierge at their hotel helping to get them a reservation at this small and intimate Japanese restaurant where the chef served a set omakase menu of delectable, painstakingly handcrafted sushi. Normally, she wasn't one to take photos of her food, but she couldn't resist this time. Every dish was a veritable work of art.

As part of the experience, the chef sent out dishes as he saw fit, which gave an air of mystery and anticipation to what they would eat next. The servers went to great effort to present each roll and piece of fish, explaining any significance it had in Japanese cuisine and also how to properly dip and eat the food. Though Mary and Matthew were quite familiar with sushi, it was still interesting to hear the presentation.

Her new fiancé didn't exactly see it that way.

Matthew frowned when the jellyfish came out. He stared suspiciously at the octopus. He cast a distrustful eye at the salmon eggs and he flat out refused to eat the eel. Normally, he was up for trying anything, especially when a renowned chef was involved, but tonight he was being downright petulant.

"It's not as though I didn't enjoy the meal," he noted, taking a spoonful of sorbet.

"No, you just looked at each course under a microscope before determining if it was safe to eat," she retorted.

"Well, I don't think that suffering food poisoning days before the awards is a particularly wise strategy," he complained. "As beautiful as it all is, it's still raw fish."

She rolled her eyes again. Matthew was nominated for the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor – Motion Picture. It was the entire reason they were here. Having already skipped some of the midweek events due to staying in England for the funeral of Mary's grandmother, Violet Crawley, their schedule was now packed through the weekend. Tomorrow night was the annual pre-party held by her agents, CAA. Saturday they had the BAFTA tea party in the afternoon, the Vanity Fair party in the evening, and Sunday was the actual awards show. There were calls, meetings, and fittings crammed into all the available free time.

Having been a television nominee and a presenter in the past, she was used to the whirlwind, and usually enjoyed it quite a bit. This year was different, though. Matthew was nominated in a more prestigious movie category, and it was the first major nomination of his career. They were also relatively new as a couple, at least as far as the public and media were concerned. Their debut was back in September when she won her first Emmy, though they had been together for over a year before that, and previously dated for even longer. The level of scrutiny and attention they would receive this weekend would be beyond anything he'd been used to before.

"God, I'm absolutely knackered," he whinged. "How much longer do we have to stay up?"

She smiled. "We really ought to try and make it to ten, or eleven. That way we should wake up tomorrow with a full night's rest and be relatively adjusted to California time."

"All right, so another two hours. That's not bad," he nodded. "I should be able to hang on."

"Darling, we flew business class the entire way and you did get a decent amount of sleep on the plane," she noted. "It isn't as though you needed to swim across the Atlantic."

"That's not the point," he frowned.

"Then what is the point? Are you saying now that you're a big, important Golden Globe nominee, you need to be pampered and treated like a porcelain figurine?"

"No!" he grumbled. "I'm just being careful, that's all. I want to be at my best when we go out, and I don't think that it's unreasonable to watch what I eat and make sure that I get sufficient rest."

She huffed. "You used to not care about such things, the pomp and ceremony of all of this."

He shook his head and went back to his dessert. "It's not a question of caring. The point is we're here for a reason, and whether it's schmoozing with these completely superficial and vacuous sheep, or trying to impress Hollywood power brokers, I want to put my best foot forward. The outcome doesn't particularly matter to me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be reckless about it."

"Yes, how rebellious of you, risking your very life on a piece of tuna sashimi," she teased.

"You're the one who taught me how important one's image is," he remarked pointedly. "I'm merely following your lead."

"I said to be mindful of it, not paranoid," she distinguished.

"I'm hardly paranoid, but the fact is I'm far more known now than I was before," he replied.

She blinked and arched her eyebrow. "Are you now? Well, do enlighten me please, Mr. Crawley."

He grunted. "A place like this, I would never have been able to get in on my own before. I'd be put on the waiting list like everyone else. Now, because of my work with Armani, or because of my nomination, people know me and recognize me. I'm not saying it's right, or even welcome, but it's the reality of my situation now."

"Excuse me, please," the server asked politely, coming over to their table and bowing her head. "Mr. Crawley?"

Matthew smirked at Mary before turning and smiling at the server. "Yes, that's me. How are you?"

"Oh! Good, good, yes," the server giggled nervously, bowing her head. "I wanted to know if it's okay to ask you a question?"

"Of course it is," he said, smiling warmly and shooting another smug look at Mary. "How can I help you?"

"Oh, please, if you could take a photo of all of us with Lady Mary, please?" the server asked, handing him her phone.

He blinked in shock.

Mary grinned.

"Uh, sure! Yes, of course!" he struggled, taking the phone.

"Thank you! Thank you!" the server exclaimed gleefully. She waved her co-workers over and the other servers and two of the chefs came running and gathered behind Mary's chair.

"I love Empress Jade!" another server gushed, grinning at Mary. "She's my favourite character, like, ever! I love Paladin so much! I was so sorry when it ended after last season."

"Thank you," Mary nodded. "I so love meeting fans. We both do, don't we darling?"

"Yes, indeed," Matthew said tightly, pointing the camera at the group. "All right, everyone ready?"

"Let's all say 'Paladin' on three, shall we?" Mary encouraged them before smiling playfully at Matthew.

Matthew gave her a pointed look and stopped himself from outright frowning. "All right, then. 1…2…3…"

"Paladin!" they all cheered.

Matthew took the photo and checked to make sure it was in focus. He handed it back to the grateful server and they all dispersed after having Mary autograph a pile of napkins for them.

"You're right, darling," she stated, sipping her green tea. "Everyone knows you now."

He smiled ruefully and shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he reached across the table and took her hand.

She smiled back at him.

"So what will we do to stay awake for the rest of the night?" he asked.

She arched her eyebrow, her fingers playing with his. "I thought you were absolutely knackered?"

"Maybe I just need a bit of a workout to get the blood moving again," he answered smoothly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "Think you could help me with that?"

"I don't know, maybe," she mused lightly. "Depends on whether you're going to last long enough."

He grinned and leaned forward to kiss her hand.

She smiled and looked down as he called for their bill.

 **CAA Party, Catch L.A., West Hollywood, California, USA, January 5, 2018**

The hostess walked briskly across the rooftop patio, weaving through the crowd, smiling at the men who turned to look at her. The party was well underway and so far, all was running smoothly. She couldn't be away from her post for too long, though, so she quickened her pace, finally reaching a private booth with a view of the hills in the distance.

"There you are," she announced, nodding to the blonde woman who followed behind her. "Reserved for Matthew Crawley and Lady Mary Crawley."

Anna looked over the booth cautiously, checking out the view, the bottles of alcohol placed on the table, and judging the distance to the nearest bar and the washrooms. It wasn't the best table in the place, far from it, in fact, but she didn't expect top level treatment. Matthew was a nominee, but he wasn't a CAA client, and Mary was far from a priority herself.

"Great. Thanks," Anna said finally, nodding her approval.

"You're very welcome. You're his P.A.?" the hostess asked.

"I'm Mary's P.A.," Anna confirmed. "Matthew doesn't really have one, although my husband's his best friend, and he's here sort of helping out."

"Ah," the hostess replied, already deeming the information not worth remembering. "Have a great night. Carol will be taking care of you. She'll be here in a second."

Anna nodded and took out her phone to text Mary. Her fingers were sliding across the phone screen when she heard a deep voice behind her.

"Corner booth, eh. Well this raises all sorts of possibilities."

She looked up and smiled as a tall man with black hair and dark brown eyes came around in front of her. He was wearing a custom tailored Prada suit and he looked her over with decidedly improper thoughts.

"This is Mary and Matthew's booth," she reminded her husband. "It's not to be used for what you have in mind, Mr. Lewis."

"And what would that be, Ms. Smith?" he countered, his eyes full of mischief as he pulled her into his embrace. "You can read minds now?"

"It's not hard when it comes to you," she smirked, putting her hands on his chest. "And I'm working, so you will have to contain yourself."

"Easy, there. I'm working, too," he replied. "I just spent ten minutes listening to Kevin pitch me on why my clients should front Warner Bros. $50 million for the _Shazam_ movie."

She laughed and shook her head. "Clearly he doesn't know of your disdain for all things DC."

"That's not true. I like Wonder Woman," he noted smoothly.

She rolled her eyes. "I am not wearing that costume again."

"No problem. I found a Batgirl one that I think is even better," he replied easily.

She frowned at him before grudgingly giving him a quick kiss.

"Can I get you a drink, love?" he asked, nodding towards the private booth.

"Just an orange juice for me," she sighed, stepping out of his hold.

"No alcohol tonight?" he asked, going over and pouring her a glass.

"Sadly, no. My husband's trying to get me pregnant, so I've got to stay sober," she teased.

He grinned and handed her the drink. "Really? So you've got big plans later tonight?"

"Mmm hmm," she nodded, sipping her juice. She leaned toward him and whispered in his ear. "Tonight is looking quite promising, timing wise, so you are so going to get it when we get back to the hotel."

"I'll have to save up my energy," he remarked.

"Yeah, you do that, babes," she agreed. "You're going to need it."

He gave her a light poke in her side before heading off to talk to another studio executive who was desperate to have his clients invest in their film.

* * *

Matthew sipped his drink, glancing around the patio slowly, seeing who he recognized. Mary was off chatting with some of her friends and he didn't feel like navigating his way over to his booth to sit down and wait for her. He knew a few of the actors here, the party not being confined exclusively to CAA clients. Since their arrival, he had received numerous congratulations and well wishes on his nomination, mostly from people he barely even knew. He just smiled and nodded, holding tight to Mary's hand. This was her agency, and she knew far more people than he did. Normally, he would find somewhere to hang out with Alex and stay inconspicuous, but there was no hiding tonight.

"Matthew! Congrats, bro!"

He smiled and nodded as three men came over to him and shook his hand vigorously. Judging by their suits and slicked hair, they had to be agents, but he didn't want to prejudge.

"Winston Capshaw. You can call me Win, cause that's all I do!" the first laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. "This is Derek and Brad, two juniors of mine."

"Hi," he said politely. Yes, they were definitely agents, all right.

"Having a good time, Matthew? The firm always goes all out. We want everyone to have fun, but also understand how important they are to us," Win continued.

"Right. Yes, it's really impressive," Matthew replied.

"It is, yeah. Look, real quick, don't want to bug you, or anything, but I heard that you still don't have U.S. representation, and I gotta tell ya, I really think you need it. We could for sure help you out a lot," Win insisted.

"I'm good," Matthew shrugged. "My agent takes good care of me."

Win looked over at Derek and Brad knowingly. "Right, yeah, Joe, right? Joe Molesely? Yeah, that's great, Matthew. He obviously has done well for you, and he knows England, sure, but I'm talking about having an agent here in the States as part of your team. You know we do the same thing for Mary, right? Rosamund's her agent, goes back and forth between here, New York and London, but Mary also has the benefit of the firm and all our resources over here. You don't have to choose one or the other, you can have a global focus. We're worldwide."

Matthew kept smiling, though his annoyance was growing. CAA had done very little for Mary, particularly lately. When her television show, _Paladin_ , was still on the air, they were quick to champion her, or at least send her projects to consider and get her name out in the industry. However, after the past scandal-plagued year, her opportunities had dried up, and her American agents had shipped her off to France to make movies there for far less pay and even less exposure.

"This is a really crucial time for you, Matthew, you know?" Win continued. "You win that Golden Globe on Sunday and you are going to blow up. I already know studios that are dying to work with you, and your rate will skyrocket. You could use a bigger team. The resources that we could put behind you will make sure you hear your name up for awards every year. Big budget tentpole releases, working with the top directors and producers, whatever you want. We can get you in the same conversation as all the huge A-listers. I'm not a name-dropper, but I was just talking to George Clooney the other day, figuring out his plan for this year, working on how to keep him on top. Just think about it. We can help."

"Sure," Matthew replied.

"Great! Great! Look, one other thing. I heard you flew commercial to get over here? Come on, Matthew, that's no good. Sitting in the same cramped, little cabin as some brat who's sneezing all over the place? Look, I don't do this for just anybody, but I like you, and I like Mary. I'll hook you guys up with a charter flight back to France next week. Have her P.A. contact my office and we'll get you all set up. Just a little gesture to show you how we take care of our own, all right?" Win smiled.

"Thanks," Matthew nodded, wondering why this 'perk' had never been offered to them during all the awards shows Mary had attended.

"Have a good night, Matthew, and we'll be crossing our fingers for you on Sunday," Win said, shaking his hand one last time before departing with his two cronies.

Matthew shook his head and took another sip of his drink. He decided to get moving and try to find Mary.

* * *

"There you are, darling."

Mary rolled her eyes and turned around, throwing a pointed glare at the man grinning at her. His dark brown hair was perfectly styled as always, his green eyes playful and mischievous. He was handsome, she never denied that. It was his personality that ruined everything, that and his penchant for never shutting up.

"Henry," she said tightly. "Imagine running into you here."

Henry Talbot chuckled, his eyes sweeping down her body to evaluate her navy sleeveless jumpsuit. She knew he would linger on her breasts and not even pretend to hide it, and as usual, he met her very low expectations.

"Come on. Let me buy you a drink," he offered, reaching out and taking hold of her arm.

She slipped away from his grasp and smiled sweetly at him. As much as she hated her former co-star, causing a scene wasn't worth it. These parties were crawling with gossip bloggers and their ilk. "No, thank you. Not unless you want me to throw it at you."

He laughed and shook his head. "I never got a congratulatory text from you after my nomination was announced."

"That's because I didn't send you one," she answered crisply. "Spoiler alert – I'm not going to be texting you on Sunday, either, win or lose."

"Oh, I'll win. We both know that I will," he replied smugly. "My agent didn't send me the seating plan yet. You're sitting at my table, aren't you?"

She gritted her teeth behind her pursed lips. "I'm here with Matthew. I'll be sitting with him."

"Matthew…Matthew…" he repeated, frowning in thought. "Oh! Matthew! Right! He was nominated for that little movie the two of you did. Well, you know how the show goes, everyone is always circulating around. You can come up from the back and sit with me if you find it hard to watch the show from where he'll be."

She thought she might burst a blood vessel from the strain of trying not to roll her eyes and give him the satisfaction that his boorish words actually registered.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," she said curtly.

"I'm sorry, Mary, I'm being rude," he smiled. "I should be the one congratulating you, after all."

She held his stare as he reached out and took her hand and appraised her engagement ring. "What a lovely ring. Did your father give him a bit of a loan to help pay for it?"

She took her hand back quickly. "Not at all. Matthew's doing very well. This weekend is just the beginning for him."

"Ah, well how clever of you, then," he noted. "Latching on to someone with a better career than yours. Not difficult to find, of course, but the difference is that you've trained him well, so that's something."

She didn't hide the contempt in her eyes as she glared at him. "Good night, Henry."

"I'll see you on Sunday," he declared, leaning in and kissing her cheek.

"Not if I can help it," she hissed.

"Give Matthew my best," he chuckled.

"I will. I'll mention it sometime after he's done fucking my brains out tonight," she replied, arching her eyebrow at him.

The brief flicker of rage on his face was a small victory, but she enjoyed it before turning around and leaving him.

* * *

"White Chocolate!"

Matthew looked up in surprise, then shook his head as a tall, black man with a toothy grin waved him over enthusiastically. Smiling in amusement, he went over and dutifully accepted the man's fierce bear hug. Several women were standing around him, watching the scene unfold.

"Ladies, let me introduce you to my man, my brother from another mother, the soon-to-be Golden Globe winner for Best Supporting Actor, Mr. Matthew Crawley!" the actor, Michael B. Jordan boomed, laughing and putting his arm around Matthew's shoulder.

"Don't listen to a word he says," Matthew deflected.

"Now, now, come on, White Chocolate, that ain't no way to talk to family," Michael scolded him.

"Why does he call you White Chocolate?" a young woman showing far too much cleavage asked.

"Because Michael's crazy, basically," Matthew answered.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Michael objected before smiling at her. "It's because when we were in Chicago last year filming _Black Panther_ , my man Matthew right here came out with me and Chad and we tore that city up! He came with us to hear some jazz, ate some soul food, the whole deal. From then on, he was White Chocolate to us, cause he's one of us."

Matthew smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Have you seen Chad? He's here somewhere," Michael asked.

"No, I haven't seen him. He texted me earlier but I said we'd catch up tomorrow," Matthew replied.

Matthew glanced around the small circle and smiled nervously when he noticed some of the women were eyeing him quite covetously.

"Anyway, I should go. I need to find where Mary's gone to," Matthew said quickly.

"Right, right, yeah," Michael nodded. "All right, man, we'll catch up. Hey, we got the premiere next month, too. Remember that. We are going to kill that. You know Marvel premieres are crazy, too."

"For sure," Matthew agreed, smiling and hugging him again. "Good seeing you."

* * *

Mary sipped her drink and looked out across the city, the dark shadows of the hills in the distance lit up by the large houses of the posh neighbourhoods tucked away along the slopes. The party had thinned out a little, but the patio was still busy, the music pumping on through the night.

She hadn't seen Matthew in a while. When she returned to their booth with Anna, she found it empty, but not wanting to venture back into the crowd, she decided to sit down and have a drink. Truthfully, she had probably gotten all she could out of this event, and it was probably time to go back to the hotel and rest her tired feet.

There were some people here that she was genuinely happy to see. Natalie Dormer, who worked with Mary and Matthew on _Shattered_ , the film that Matthew was nominated for, gave her a big hug and asked her how long she would be in Paris for to see if they could meet up there. Benedict Cumberbatch had left early, but promised her they would catch up at the BAFTA tea tomorrow. Some of her other fellow Brits had tracked her down to say hello.

Generally, though, she spent the evening receiving condolences on Granny's passing, or congratulations on her engagement. Matthew had warned her that an official announcement so soon after Granny's death might be awkward, but Mum was so happy for them and once she started telling family and friends, the news would leak anyway. Granny always taught her to control the message about her in public, and so a formal announcement was prepared and released. She even posted a photo of her ring on her social media accounts.

And now that was what she was known as – Matthew Crawley's fiancée.

It wasn't a bother, really. She loved being engaged, was surprisingly giddy about it. For the longest time, she expected her engagement and marriage would be just further life milestones, nothing worth blowing out of proportion. Now, she found herself playing with her ring constantly, admiring it, unafraid of wearing it and being photographed with it on. She found she looked at Matthew differently, too. She would have little daydreams about their life together – where they would live, trips they would take together, more premieres, events and awards shows they would attend – and she couldn't help but smile like some lovestruck teenager thinking about her favourite singer.

No, being engaged wasn't a problem. She was more perturbed that no one bothered to ask her about her career, about what she was working on. The final episode of _Paladin_ had aired just two weeks ago to strong ratings and no one was congratulating her for that. She had wrapped on her latest film, a movie she filmed in France called _The Muse_ , but hardly anyone here knew about it, and those who did, didn't care. Just last year at this very same party, she had agents and producers trying to lure her into quitting her show to work on the plethora of wonderful projects they wanted her to star in. This year, those same people told her how much they admired Granny and hoped that Matthew won on Sunday.

"You all right?" Anna asked.

Mary smiled wanly and nodded, taking another sip of her drink. "Just tired."

Anna nodded in understanding. "Do you want me to go find Matthew? Alex is probably ready to leave, too."

"No, it's his night, he should be allowed to enjoy it," Mary replied. "You and Alex can leave, if you like."

"We're okay," Anna answered. "He's been discussing deals with some of the studio executives."

"Let me know if there's a part for me in any of them," Mary grumbled. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's all right," Anna replied.

"It's funny, isn't it? I'm going back to Paris next week to start filming my second movie there and yet it somehow feels as if I'm losing," Mary laughed emptily.

"You're not losing," Anna stated. "You'll be in the Riviera next month, too. I'd say that's something to look forward to."

"I suppose, although the weather won't be nearly as hot as I'd like," Mary commented, sharing a knowing smile with her assistant and best friend. "Speaking of which, did Paul tell you who's going?"

"I think it's just you and him," Anna replied. "Edna told me that there're some meetings he's arranged over there, but mainly you're going to scout film locations for a few days. I don't know why he thinks you need to go."

"Some of the meetings are with investors and studio people, so he wants to show me off," Mary shrugged. "I'm actually looking forward to it. If we're going to be filming in Nice, I'd like to know which places we're using in advance."

Anna nodded and sipped her juice. The director, Paul Chaput, was rather domineering and stubborn. He had a particular way of working that everyone on the production had to follow, and he hated being questioned. When his assistant director, Edna, told Anna that Paul didn't want assistants or staff accompanying him and Mary to the French Riviera, she found that odd, but it was understandable that he didn't want an entire entourage going with them. This second film that he was working on with Mary had a smaller budget than she was normally used to, and so the fact was the studio couldn't afford many of the things that she and Mary took for granted when they were filming _Paladin_ or a movie in North America.

"Matthew's been quite popular tonight," Anna remarked. "I saw the two of you drew quite a circle earlier."

Mary nodded. "He's a Golden Globe nominee, and a new face. You know how this business is. Everyone loves checking out the new boy."

Anna nodded. She had noticed that Matthew's popularity had grown after being nominated. His social media followers had doubled, and despite this being a rather exclusive party, she had seen a fair number of groupies checking him out.

"Hello, ladies. Either of you looking for a good time tonight?"

Mary looked up and rolled her eyes as Matthew slid into the booth next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

Anna grinned as Alex did the same.

"Can we go, please?" Matthew whinged. "I'm done."

Mary shared a pleased smirk with Anna.

"It's quite weak that you're worn out already, but I guess we can leave," Mary said haughtily.

"Thank you," Matthew said, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "And I'm far from worn out. I just want to get out of here. I just want to get you out of here."

She grinned and took his hand, letting him help her up out of the booth. The four of them quickly headed for the elevator, giving token nods and smiles to those they knew on their way out.

 **Wilshire Suite, Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 6, 2018**

"How many men tried to pick you up tonight?" Alex asked.

"None, obviously," Anna scoffed, coming over and sitting down on the bed. "There were models, and singers, and actresses there. No one was looking at me."

"I don't think men at these parties care about what a woman's job is," he replied, smiling at her from his side of the bed.

"Maybe, but the point is the place was full of gorgeous women," she muttered.

"I wouldn't know. I wasn't looking," he noted, grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yeah, right."

He sat up and shifted over to her, his bare chest and arms immediately drawing her attention.

She hummed when he pressed a light kiss to her cheek. "I only had eyes for my sexy wife."

"I bet there were plenty of women fawning all over you," she whispered, closing her eyes as he kissed her neck. "Offering to give you a quickie in some dark corner."

"I was hoping to get you into one of the bathrooms," he replied smoothly. "But you were busy working."

"Mmm, well I'm not working now," she breathed, her hands sliding up and down his back as she felt him untie her robe.

The sheer force of his desire for her was overwhelming at times. They had been married for years now and still he wanted her like he did when they were dating, possibly even more. The past seven months since her miscarriage had been rough for them, almost catastrophic even, but they had survived. They weren't all the way healed just yet, and she was still looking over her shoulder, afraid that some past demons might come back to haunt her again. But at moments like these, when she could feel just how much he held her above all others, she felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

"Your schedule is finally clear, eh?" he asked, pulling her robe off and licking her bare shoulder.

"Mmm hmm," she nodded, her pulse jumping when his fingers reached around and undid her bra. "I blocked off the rest of the night for fucking my husband."

He chuckled and kissed his way down her front.

She gasped and arched her back as his mouth captured her breast. Her fingers wound through his hair, encouraging him to play with her body in the way he knew would drive her mad.

He eased her on to her back, still kissing and caressing her breasts. She turned her head and groaned into the pillow, every touch of his lips and tongue building her up.

She moaned loudly when his hand ducked beneath the black lace of her thong and his fingers stroked her before sliding into her centre. Her hand shot down and took hold of his wrist, urging him to go faster, deeper, harder.

He did.

"Alex! I'm so close!" she cried, writhing beneath him.

"Let me hear you," he hissed against her skin.

She yelled when he sent her over with his mouth and fingers, her shout of pleasure making her release seem all the more intense.

He pulled her thong off while she came back down from her high. Running his hands up and down the smooth skin of her legs, he smiled at her as she calmed.

She opened her eyes and pounced on him, pushing him on to his back and quickly removing his pyjama trousers and shorts. He grinned down at her, his eyes instructing her as she closed her mouth around him, her hand stroking the rest of him in sweet obedience.

"Anna," he grunted, running his hand up and down her back and thrusting his hips towards her mouth. She moaned around him, licking his length, aroused and elated that she had this effect on him, that he responded to her touch so powerfully, as if she was the only one who could make him feel this way. He had told her exactly that so many times, but it was only when they were like this – naked and overwhelmed with desire – that she truly believed it.

She tasted him one last time before reluctantly letting him go and swinging around, straddling him and grinding her hips against his.

"Fuck! Oh God!" she cried, leaning over him as his hands on her hips guided her down. She moved, slowly at first to ease him in, before need and desperation made her go faster and take more of him. He sat up and kissed her, one hand reaching through her blonde hair and holding her head, the other wrapped around her to hold her tight. She yelped into his mouth, her tongue playing with his as every thrust drove her towards the edge once more.

"Fuck me, fuck me," she chanted, her breathing harsh and ragged.

He turned them over. Her legs wrapped around him as he picked up the pace, pushing in deep with each stroke.

She closed her eyes and hung on to him, a string of moans and vulgar pleas falling from her lips in time with his driving hips. A dark craving built in the back of her mind, wanting to feel him let go inside of her, fill her, the thought of carrying his child thrilling and terrifying her all at once.

The idea sent her flying a second time. She squeezed him, kissed his face, moved on him as she felt him getting close.

He warned her.

She begged him.

They both cried out together as she took all that he gave.

 **75** **th** **Golden Globe Awards, The Beverly Hilton Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 7, 2018**

Like most of the audience, Mary and Matthew grew progressively more drunk as the evening went on. They were well behaved for the most part, arriving on the red carpet calm and cool, despite the crowd and the paparazzi going nuts around them. Her blue halter-style dress was backless, with a large belt and a long form-fitting skirt. She wore her hair up this time, revealing more of her pale skin, and standing next to Matthew in his Armani tuxedo, she matched him well. They did a few interviews, smoothly trading off when to answer and comment, before heading into the venue and greeting friends and well-wishers. Their table was near the front, sufficiently far enough away from Henry, and quite close to the stage. At the beginning of the evening, they socialized freely, even moving about the tables to greet friends during the commercial breaks. As Matthew's category approached, they became more composed, whispering to each other and keeping their eyes on the stage.

Henry's category came up first, and Matthew almost jumped out of his seat when Rami Malek won for _Mr. Robot_. Mary touched his arm and smiled, applauding politely and sharing a knowing glance with her fiancé. She imagined the look of shock and anger on Henry's face, but she didn't bother looking, focusing instead on Rami's lovely speech.

The tribute to Granny was included in the 'In Memoriam' reel played during the show. Mary had to agree that Aunt Rosamund had chosen a beautiful photo, a more recent one of Granny where she was actually smiling. Though she was known to many in the room, it had been so long since she'd been in anything that many of the younger people had never seen her work. Truly, Mary felt sorry for them rather than annoyed. Granny never put much stock in awards and accolades anyway. She had a remarkable ability to trust in her own opinion over those of others, especially when it came to her career. Mary was still learning that particular skill, but as she and Matthew looked up at Granny's photo, they smiled and were grateful once again for a woman who had impacted their lives so profoundly.

During another commercial break, Matthew got up and went over to say hello to Rooney Mara, his co-star in the film they just wrapped a few months ago in Spain. They had seen each other at the Vanity Fair party last night, and she wished him good luck before he went back to his seat.

Mary returned from the washroom and patted Matthew's hand when she sat back down. He gave her a brave smile.

"Nervous?" she teased.

"No, just enjoying the moment," he replied.

"Well, you should," she smiled, squeezing his hand. "I'm proud of you, you know."

He grinned and nodded. "Thanks."

He squeezed her hand a touch harder when Viola Davis was introduced to present the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actor – Film. He always found this category strange. The Golden Globes separated lead actor and actress categories into drama, and comedy or musical. The supporting actor award encompassed all the different genres of film into one. He didn't think his chances would be any better if he only had to compete against other drama roles, but it was a peculiar distinction all the same.

His name was read out first in the alphabetical order and he turned and smiled at Mary. He could feel the camera on them, and the polite applause from the audience, as brief as it was, still surprised him a bit. He became nervous as the last nominee was read and Viola began opening the envelope.

"And the Golden Globe goes to…Matthew Crawley, _Shattered_ …"

Hearing his name was so shocking that he jumped a bit, his pulse quickening. As the applause rang out around him, he turned towards Mary's smiling face, the look of disbelief matching his own. He kissed her tenderly before standing up and making his way to the stage. He felt hands reach out and touch him, voices uttering congratulations, but he couldn't pay attention, all of his effort devoted to making sure he got up the steps without falling on his face.

Every step across the stage felt like he might slip at any moment. He kissed Viola on the cheek and hugged her, accepting the trophy and turning towards the microphone. The lights were intensely bright, but he could make out the audience before him, his eyes adjusting to the glare. The music stopped and everyone grew silent, waiting on him to speak.

"Thank you, God, wow, I really, wow…" he stammered, looking down at the trophy to make sure it was really in his hand.

Mary covered her mouth to stop herself from crying as she watched him clear his throat before continuing. He looked at the trophy once more before turning his blue eyes back to the audience.

"There's countless people to thank at a surreal moment like this – the Hollywood Foreign Press firstly, thank you. My Mother, all of my wonderful friends who have supported me throughout my career, who offered me their couches to sleep on, and kitchens to eat in when I needed them. My agent, Joseph Molesley, of course, thank you so very much. I have to thank Sony and Thea Sharrock for letting me be a part of this project with such an amazing cast and crew. I…I must thank Violet Crawley…"

A small sob escaped Mary's lips as the audience applauded at the mention of Granny.

Matthew nodded before going on.

"She was a legend to all of you, but to me, she was simply Violet, and I loved her dearly," he said. "There's one person that I need to thank most of all, and that's my incredible co-star, Mary…"

His eyes found hers. Her breath caught.

"She doesn't know this, but the only reason I ever got into acting so, so many years ago when we were children was because she did. I thought it was something we would have in common to talk about, and that was it, really. I quickly learned that if I was going to have any hope of keeping up with her, I'd have to raise my game, as they say, and well, here I am. My darling, I'll keep chasing after you for as long as you'll let me. It's worked out brilliantly so far. I love you. Thank you. Good night, everyone. Thanks."

Mary applauded heartily while the orchestra began playing once more and Matthew was escorted off the stage. He turned and smiled at her one last time before disappearing behind the curtains.

 **NBCUniversal After-Party, The Beverly Hilton Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 7, 2018**

Mary would never admit it, but she was enjoying herself even more than the night she won her Emmy Award. She went backstage almost immediately and watched as Matthew did his press conference, accompanied him as he went through various tasks required of award winners and even laughed when he was able to charm the staff into giving him a women's swag bag rather than the men's. He gave her a teasing smile as he handed it to her. Most of the coveted cosmetics would be gifted to her sisters, but she appreciated his consideration all the same.

"Can you believe it?" she asked, grinning as they lingered backstage.

"Can you?" he countered, looking at her playfully.

She smiled and kissed him lightly. "I must say I didn't think you would win, if I'm honest."

"Neither did I," he admitted.

They shared a knowing glance before heading off to another area to meet up with Alex and Anna, who congratulated him heartily. They took some selfies with the trophy, though Mary refused to touch it, and all four of them did a rather hilarious Skype session with Sybil and Edith, who were still at Downton and were exhausted, but elated for Matthew's victory.

The rest of the ceremony was rather a blur. Matthew spent a while speaking to his mother before they headed to the official after-party, which was wisely staged in the same venue. They had barely gotten their drinks when a procession of friends and colleagues descended upon them to offer their congratulations and chat. She stood by to let him have his moment, but his free hand kept straying to hers. Even when he gestured while he was talking, he would keep hold of her fingers, such that they comically looked like they were swinging their arms together for no reason.

After a while, he pulled her on to the dance floor, as much to get away from everyone clamouring for his attention as to have a private moment with her. Unlike his normal reserved demeanour, he let loose a little, smiling at her mischievously as they turned about to a slow song one minute and playfully grinded to a faster dance tune the next. It was wonderful to see him enjoying himself and celebrating this incredible achievement, and his happiness seemed contagious. When people came up to congratulate her on his win, she didn't even mind or care that it was rather patronising, just accepting the well wishes with a lovely smile. For one night, her pride and love for him outweighed her own disappointment on the state of her career, and it was remarkably freeing.

"Have you seen Henry?" Anna asked, smiling conspiratorially.

"No," Mary laughed, shaking her head. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere, or we'll see him at one of the other parties. Funny enough, I didn't even look at him all night."

"That is surprising," Anna noted. "I thought you'd want to see the look on his face when he lost, or when Matthew won."

"I would have thought so, too, but in the moment, I barely thought about him. It's better to just imagine his fury," Mary laughed.

"Goodness, Lady Mary Crawley choosing to take the high road?" Anna teased.

Mary frowned at her. "Bite your tongue. You know me better than that."

"Darling! Darling! Come on! They have a chocolate fountain!" Matthew gushed, coming over and grabbing her hand. "You too, Anna! Let's go!"

Mary smirked at Anna knowingly before dutifully following her giddy fiancé to the dessert station.

* * *

The man wandered away from the dance floor, past the dessert table and out the door to the reception area beyond the ballroom. Glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention, he took out his headset and put it in his ear before dialling a number on his phone.

"Oui."

"I'm at the after-party. She's here. She arrived with Matthew Crawley and her assistant. They're having dessert. Strawberries with chocolate."

"What else?"

"She hasn't taken any meetings yet. I am told that no one here wants to work with her. She's not in the conversation for anything."

"Bon."

* * *

Matthew smiled and tapped his beer with Alex's. They shared a knowing smile and drank, standing off to the side while the party went on before them. Some of the more high profile guests had moved on to the other after-parties thrown by different studios and networks. They would head out soon enough. For now, they were waiting for Mary and Anna to come back from the ladies' room, and enjoying what was a truly unbelievable evening.

"So did you bet on me, or against me?" Matthew asked, smirking at his best friend.

"Both, obviously," Alex replied. "The odds on you were pretty low, so I hedged a bit and still made money."

Matthew laughed and took another drink.

"So what's next? Back to Paris and figure it out from there?" Alex asked.

Matthew shook his head. "I'm going back to Downton, actually. Mother agreed to head up to Manchester for a few days. I think it'll be good for her."

Alex nodded in surprise. "I see. So when will you be back in France?"

"Just before we come back here for the SAG Awards," Matthew advised. "Mary starts filming right away on Wednesday so she'll be pretty busy for the next two weeks. By February she should be into a routine, so that'll be easier."

"After she gets back from Nice?" Alex asked.

Matthew nodded. "Exactly. I'll be in Paris while she's away, and should know what my next move is by then. Well, we have the _Black Panther_ premiere in London"

"Being a Golden Globe winner will help a lot. It'll get you better scripts, more money, more exposure," Alex noted.

"Whatever that means," Matthew shrugged. "I'll talk to Joe about it when I get back. For now, the only thing in my future is a wedding in September."

Alex smiled. "Fair enough. Just so you know, though, you will seem much more attractive to my clients now."

Matthew frowned. "Really? I thought you said they wouldn't want to give me any money for a film by a first-time director."

"They usually won't, especially since you don't even have an idea yet, let alone an actual script. But it's easier for me to pitch them on a project being developed by a Golden Globe winner, as opposed to one by just a first-time director," Alex explained.

Matthew nodded, considering his words. "How much do you think I could get?"

Alex laughed. "Here we go."

Matthew huffed. "Well, it makes a difference when it comes to who I can cast and all that."

"I thought it was going to be you and Mary and you'd figure out the rest?" Alex asked.

"Yes, that is the hope, but it's not just going to be the two of us, and we might actually have to pay people. You know, the union isn't too big on actors working for free," Matthew remarked.

Alex laughed. "Work on an actual idea first. Develop an outline, a treatment. Get me something tangible, together with a realistic budget, and I'll see if I can get you enough money to give it a try."

Matthew grinned and took another drink.

 **Rodeo View Suite, Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 8, 2018**

Mary laughed as she stumbled through the door, swaying her hips back and forth and holding her arms out to try and balance herself. Matthew followed behind her, closing the door and smiling at her antics. She flipped her Jimmy Choos on to the floor and headed into the living room. Fumbling with the pins in her hair, she managed to pull them loose and shake her tresses free. His eyes widened when he watched her lift the halter of her dress over her head and ease the gown down her hips and to the floor.

"What?" she asked, smiling at him over her shoulder, now dressed in just her bra, thong, garters and stockings. "It's more efficient this way, isn't it?"

He shook his head in amusement and followed her towards the bedroom. She turned around and beckoned him towards her.

"You're very overdressed, Mr. Crawley," she drawled, quickly easing his suit jacket off and undoing his bow tie. "Or do you prefer it this way? Am I to parade around naked for you? Fetch you a drink and your slippers and await my orders?"

He chuckled as she unbuttoned his shirt. "I would never presume to command the Lady Mary Crawley to do anything."

She laughed sultrily and kissed his chest as she revealed more and more of his skin. "You can tonight. I'll do anything you want, darling. Anything and everything. You're the victor, and I am your spoils."

He grinned. She stood back up and pulled his shirt from his trousers, eased it down his arms and kissed all over his neck and shoulders.

"You know, seeing you up on that stage made me so hot," she nodded, smiling at him wickedly. "I kept thinking 'I'm going to be fucked by a Golden Globe winner tonight.'"

He chuckled. "You're really drunk."

She laughed and undid his belt. "So what if I am? So are you. Are you saying that it's just the vodka making me behave this way?"

He ran one hand through her hair and massaged her nape, his grip on her neck soothing and yet noticeably firm. "You're being far more…unladylike…than usual, is all."

She shook her head and kissed her way to his ear. "Maybe that's because I don't want to be a Lady for you tonight, Matthew."

He growled and took hold of her hips, massaging her skin just above the red silk.

"Maybe I want to be your naughty girl tonight," she whispered, licking his ear. "Maybe I want you to turn me into your wanton little whore, make me do things that I would never, ever think to do."

His grip tightened on her hips.

"Make me scream your name and beg you for it," she teased, pressing her body against his.

He snarled and picked her up off the floor.

"Mmm, such a big strong man you are," she purred, kissing his neck.

He carried her to bed and tossed her on to the mattress. So desperate to take off his trousers, he almost fell over trying to get his legs out of them. With some effort, he was soon naked and standing at the side of the bed.

"Come here," he snapped, his eyes lit up as he leered at her.

She smiled and crawled to him, her head level with his waist. Keeping her eyes on his, she reached out and took hold of him. He watched her lick her lips and guide him to her mouth.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides as she took him in, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth.

"Is this good?" she asked, licking him slowly.

He tangled her hair around his fist and pulled her on to him.

She moaned as he quickened her pace, sealing her lips around him and taking him deep.

His other hand reached out and undid her bra. He yanked it off of her and she groaned when his fingers found her breast, fondling and pinching her roughly. Her pulse jumped at the sensation of helplessness and arousal filling her. She rocked back and forth on her hands and knees, letting him have his way, her eyes locked on his all the while.

Eventually, he pulled back and she sat up, wiping her face and licking her lips.

He came to bed and stalked towards her, forcing her on to her back.

She spread her legs and raised her arms above her head in surrender. His looming presence made her feel small and vulnerable, even though they were almost the same height. She took in a sharp breath when he undid her garters and pulled her thong off, keeping her stockings on. Anticipation and a twinge of fear floated through her head when he lifted her leg to this shoulder and opened her up.

"Matthew!" she keened, her back arching when he plunged inside without pretence or warning. His eyes were predatory, his teeth bared. She felt his warm breath on her skin, every thrust accompanied by a rough grunt. He was like an animal claiming his mate, and she held herself open, every touch pushing her closer to bliss.

"Mine," he growled, somehow taking her even harder.

"Yours! All yours!" she chanted, yelping as he kissed her hard, his tongue seizing her mouth.

She shouted as she fell apart, his hips not stopping their furious pace. Her entire body seemed to tense and explode, and when he drew back and released her mouth, she yelled out wildly. A part of her almost hoped that one of the guests on this floor would hear them. That would make for a rather spicy headline.

He stopped and pulled out, grinning devilishly when he heard her whinge in protest. Moving quickly, he went to her side and lifted her head. Her eyes widened just before he forced her mouth on him again.

"Fuck!" he groaned, his head falling back as she attended to him enthusiastically, the sound of her mouth and throat making him delirious with lust.

"So good," she whispered when he released her. She could tell he was close. She could also tell that he wasn't going to be nearly satisfied with just one round.

She turned over on to her front, raising her hips and displaying herself shamefully to him. "Do you remember that one time when I told you I would only do that thing we did on very rare occasions?"

He blinked, his mind barely able to form coherent thoughts as the blood raced through his veins.

"I do," he nodded. "I remember vividly."

She smiled and lowered her head to the pillows. Tucking her knees beneath her, she raised her hips enticingly to his hungry gaze.

He moved behind her and ran a shaking hand over her arse before giving her a hard spank.

She moaned loudly.

"Is this a rare occasion?" he demanded, spanking her again.

"If you say so," she breathed, groaning with every sharp sting of his hand on her skin. She clutched the duvet tightly and bit into the pillow to brace herself.

"I do say so," he grunted, taking hold of her hips. He paused, letting the tension linger just before he lunged forward.

She screamed and shook, writhed in his hold, unable to move unless he allowed it, unable to do anything but give in to the burning heat and addictive thrill of him taking control of her.

He shifted back and forth, giving her more and more with each push.

She moaned and urged him on, begged him to not stop.

He didn't, giving her deep strokes until he couldn't hold back anymore and had to let go.

She cried out when she felt him shoot, remaining in his clutches until he was finished.

They collapsed to the bed, barely able to turn and cuddle together, the warmth of their joined bodies making them both drowsy.

"Thank you," he grinned, kissing her forehead and holding her close. "That was amazing."

"Mmm, yes, it was," she agreed. "Let's rest a bit. You've got all night to come up with my next command."

He laughed. "Are you sure you can take much more?"

She kissed his neck and snuggled against him. "I want you to make me take it all."

He hummed in delight, held her close and let his imagination wander.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, January 11, 2018**

"Bon! That's a good one!" Paul called.

The crew took over the set, moving equipment around to prepare for the next scene.

Mary came over to where Paul was seated, sipping her water.

"That was good?" she asked.

He nodded, not looking up from his tablet. "A good start, yes. We need to work on the chemistry between you and James. It is good for now, but it needs some more fire."

"Fire?" she questioned.

"Yes, fire. You get along now, but the audience must believe he is your lover, that there is heat between you. It will come as you work together more. The more intense scenes we will not film until later, in March, maybe," he explained.

She nodded. "Have you cast the other remaining roles?"

He nodded. "I have someone older to play Florian. You will meet him later. His scenes do not start until March."

"And what about the part of Ludivine?" she asked.

He grunted. "I have someone to play her, also. You will meet her in Nice."

"In Nice?" she repeated.

"Yes. She will meet us there, inspect some of the possible film locations, and go to the functions with us to talk to the investors and studio executives," he confirmed.

"Ah, I see," she nodded. "And here I thought that you only needed me to dazzle those that you wanted to impress."

He laughed and looked up, giving her a bright smile. " _Marie_ , you are the star, remember that."

She smiled and nodded before turning away and meeting up with Anna to go back to her trailer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Previously:**

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, January 11, 2018**

She nodded. "Have you cast the other remaining roles?"

He nodded. "I have someone older to play Claude. You will meet him later. His scenes do not start until later."

"And what about the part of Ludivine?" she asked.

He grunted. "I have someone to play her, also. You will meet her in Nice."

"In Nice?" she repeated.

"Yes. She will meet us there, inspect some of the possible film locations, and go to the functions with us to talk to the investors and studio executives," he confirmed.

"Ah, I see," she nodded. "And here I thought that you only needed me to dazzle those that you wanted to impress."

He laughed and looked up, giving her a bright smile. " _Marie_ , you are the star, remember that."

She smiled and nodded before turning away and meeting up with Anna to go back to her trailer.

 **Chapter 2:**

 **The Lime Tree Restaurant, Manchester, England, January 14, 2018**

 _'Golden Globe winner Matthew Crawley was spotted earlier this week in his native Manchester. Nowhere to be found was his new fiancée, Lady Mary Crawley. Sources tell us that Lady Mary is back in Paris filming her next movie, Orlena, and it seems that while she's busy working away, her fiancé is spending time in his former stomping grounds. He was seen at Old Trafford cheering on his beloved Manchester United against Stoke City, with a mystery female in his luxury box.'_

"Mystery female? For God's sake!" Isobel snapped, frowning at her tablet.

"Mother, put it down. What have I told you about reading tabloids?" Matthew scolded her, continuing to eat his soup.

"But it's so preposterous. You weren't with a mystery female! You were with me! And how did they even find out that you were here?" she demanded, frowning in disgust.

"Someone might have taken a photo of me at the stadium, or seen us out for dinner, or the taxi driver at the airport might have recognized me and sent in a tip. Who knows? It happens," he shrugged.

"I should think that there are far more important matters in the world requiring the news media's attention than keeping up on your whereabouts," she grumbled.

He smiled and nodded. "That is very true, although I don't know if these websites qualify as the 'news media' really."

"They seem to know quite a bit about Mary's next film," she noted, putting her tablet down.

"Rosamund probably let them know when they contacted her for comment," he guessed. "She would have refused to say anything about me, but let them know that Mary was hard at work on her next project."

She blinked and frowned in confusion. "She would have assisted them in writing this drivel?"

He chuckled and nodded. "Agents and publicists always have a give-and-take with the tabloids and paparazzi. They need the publicity for their clients."

"So Joe is playing this same game on your behalf?" she asked incredulously.

He smiled and shook his head. "No. Joe is rather old fashioned that way. He comments on my professional matters only, unless he's instructed otherwise. Anytime anyone asks him about my personal life, he gives them a boring 'no comment' and leaves it at that"

She smiled in approval. "Ah. Well, at least there are some sane agents remaining in the world."

"Rosamund is very good at her job, Mother," he chided her.

"I'm sure that she is, but she and Mary choose to manipulate the media to achieve their goals. Joe is above all of that. I would much rather you be represented by him than by someone like her."

"Well, you're in the minority there. When I was in Los Angeles, I had agents and publicists accosting me at every turn looking to sign me up," he revealed, finishing his soup. "Some of them are far worse than Rosamund, if rumours are to be believed."

She huffed in annoyance. "You'd leave Joe? After all he's done for you? Matthew, honestly!"

"I never said that I was leaving Joe. I only mention it because the way that business is today has changed from when I was younger and just starting out. It isn't just about the work anymore, Mother. There's an entire machine involved in managing one's brand," he noted.

"Managing one's brand? Goodness, is that what you are now?" she asked sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes. "Mother, I believe in standing on my own merit, you know that. However, the reality is that people can win their fame today with just a few choice photos on social media. Some of the most accomplished actors in the business never even went to college. It would be ignorant to dismiss the importance of marketing and publicity, and assume that you'll be discovered as long as you work hard."

"I think you've done very well for yourself without having to rely on all of that extra mess," she countered. "You won your award for your performance, not for where you happened to have been spotted having breakfast, or how many followers you have on snapface."

He smirked. "Snapchat, Mother."

She scoffed and waved her hand dismissively.

They were given a welcome respite when the server brought over their entrees and cleared away their starter dishes.

"Cora showed me the list of venues that they're considering for the wedding," she began after trying several spoonfuls of risotto. "It's quite impressive."

"Mary's wedding was always going to be a large undertaking," he replied easily. "That's even more true today than it was the first time that I proposed."

Isobel frowned and went back to her risotto.

"What is it, Mother?" he asked tiredly, putting his fork down.

"What is what, dear?" she asked lightly, not looking at him.

"What is it that's got you so obviously annoyed?" he pressed. "It's not as if Cora obsessing over wedding details is at all a surprise, so what's the problem?"

She sighed and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. "It's nothing. I'm simply a small bit concerned about Mary, is all."

He frowned. "What about Mary, precisely?"

She looked at him patiently, weighing her words before replying. "Are you sure about her?"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Mother…"

"Before you tear a strip off of me, I love Mary, you know that. We're family, and always will be. However, your history with her is complicated, to say the least…" she explained.

"Mother…"

"The first time that you proposed to her, she threw you over because she wanted to pursue her career. Now, with her career suffering, she's chosen to accept you. It's suspicious, you must admit," she pointed out.

"Mother, by that same logic, I should wait until our careers are exactly at the same point before marrying her. If she's above me, I'm a fortune hunter. If I'm above her, she's a gold digger," he retorted. "It's preposterous."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," she snapped. "This isn't about money. Mary will always be ahead of you there."

"Then what it is about, Mother?" he sneered. "You know that I love Mary. I appreciate that you have not seen much of her over the past while, but she loves me, you can be sure of it. If you think that she's merely biding her time and she'll leave me when her career improves or she finds someone more famous, you're mad. She's not like that."

"I don't believe that she would act that way, no, not deliberately, in any event," she maintained firmly.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"It means that Mary's career will always be her singular focus, her priority," she continued. "Your view on the importance of your career is different. I have some concerns that when your marriage comes into conflict with her career, she will always choose her ambition. I expect you have accepted that, and you believe that you can manage. However, I also know that even you have limits. When she chooses to put herself before you, before your marriage, before children, it will weigh upon you, and eventually become unbearable. It cannot be any other way."

He huffed and looked away. "I would have thought that you, of all people, would be in support of my wife pursuing her career."

She nodded. "I am all for the advancement of women, and I admire Mary's drive, particularly given that she faces obstacles through no fault of her own. Every marriage requires compromise and understanding, though. You are choosing to be with a woman who very seldom compromises, and is rather selective in her understanding. It's a concern, is all."

"Your concern is duly noted," he stated tightly. "You do realize that Violet wanted us to be together?"

She smiled and nodded. "I also want you to be together, but I want you to know what you're getting into as well, both the good and the potentially bad. No one goes into a marriage with the full story told between them. Violet accepted that as a normal reality. I am not so easily swayed."

"I am aware, both of how you feel and what I may face," he answered, nodding his head. "Just because I'm mad enough to take on a Crawley girl doesn't mean I don't have my eyes open, Mother."

She laughed at that and went back to her risotto. "Well said."

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, January 20, 2018**

"Do you know what your problem is? You been dealing with doctors and lawyers and all these rich assholes for too long."

Mary frowned and crossed her arms in front of her, tilting her head slightly and glaring at Jimmy. "And I suppose you think that I'm better off with an auto mechanic, such as yourself?"

He smirked and stepped towards her. "There's some things that an auto mechanic knows how to do far better than a stupid doctor or lawyer. We're better with our tools."

She raised her chin and arched her eyebrow at him as he drew close. The regional French accent he was using was deliberately rough and heavy, giving his lines a hard edge. Though she easily understood what he was saying, it gave an extra dimension to her character to answer all of his French dialogue in English. She would dictate the terms of their conversation. She would force him to adapt to her by not even acknowledging his native tongue.

"You're used to having a man take care of you, and now that you're alone, you're looking for someone to step in and tell you what to do," he taunted her.

"Even if that were true, you would be the last one I would turn to," she sniffed.

"Sure about that?" he smiled, before taking her face in his hands and kissing her. She tried to pull back but he pressed his lips against hers and slipped his tongue into her mouth.

"Fuck off!" she snapped, pulling free and slapping him across the face.

He smiled and rubbed his cheek. Bowing respectfully, he turned around and left, leaving her breathing heavily, her eyes staring wildly at his retreating form.

"Cut! Bon!" Paul called from off-set. He gave out orders to the crew while Mary relaxed, keeping her eyes on Jimmy.

"Nice one, Mary," he said, rubbing his face and smiling as he came back towards her. "Almost seemed like you meant that."

"I did," she replied coldly. "I told you, Jimmy. Don't put your damn tongue in my mouth."

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized, holding up his hands. "I got carried away."

"You've been getting 'carried away' rather often lately," she pointed out. "The script doesn't call for a French kiss, or for you to grope me either."

He laughed and nodded. "I'm sorry, Mary, honestly. You have to admit, though, my character's a total clot. These are the types of things he would do."

"You can show what an utter arse your character is without molesting me, thank you," she scolded him. "Orlena doesn't come around to him for a while yet. They have to appear adversarial here. There needs to be tension, not outright assault."

"All right, got it," he nodded. "It's just that Paul told me to take some liberties. He said it would fit the scene more."

She blinked and glanced over at the director. He was busy speaking with Edna and wasn't looking at them.

"I see. Well, maybe dial back the enthusiasm a little then," she suggested.

"Okay. I'm just saying, Mary, you're fucking hot as hell. I have to picture my Aunt Myrtle just to get through our scenes, as it stands," he admitted sheepishly.

She rolled her eyes. "Now you're just being patronising. Am I supposed to take that as a compliment? Get out of here. I'll see you this afternoon."

He shrugged and held out his hand to her. "All right. We good?"

She sighed and high-fived him. "We're good."

He nodded and left her.

"Getting along, are you?" Anna joked, coming over and handing Mary a bottle of water.

"How was he chosen as One to Watch?" Mary grumbled, taking a sip. "He's so juvenile."

Anna laughed. "I can understand the appeal. He's quite fit."

"The business is full of unemployed gorgeous people, Anna," Mary rolled her eyes.

Anna nodded. "He's gorgeous and talented. He sticks to roles that he knows he can pull off and doesn't try to reach for too much. You must admit that playing an irresponsible young man looking to romance a woman above his station is well within his range."

"I suppose," Mary grudgingly agreed. "He treats everything like it's a game, though. It's one thing to have fun, but we're supposed to be professionals."

"He knows just how far he can push things without going over the line," Anna noted. "Paul hasn't yelled at him once. You can't really say he's delayed production or caused any unnecessary issues."

"Joined his fan club, have you?" Mary accused her as they went into the trailer.

"Maybe if I was younger, not married and had an IQ about 30 points lower," Anna joked. "I'm simply pointing out that you're going to be working with him for another three months, Paul seems to like him, and the rest of the cast and crew adore him because of his antics. You don't need to like him, but you do need to respect him, and his ability. If you can't trust him to do his job, you'll end up being unable to focus on yours."

Mary sighed, her brow still furrowed. "All right. Paul does want me to develop chemistry with him. How I'm to do that I have no idea, but I need to be more patient with him otherwise it'll all go sideways."

Anna smiled. "Your ornery mood wouldn't have anything to do with your fiancé being away, would it?"

"Maybe a small bit," Mary complained, rubbing her hands together. She took off her engagement ring when she was filming and not having it on her finger felt strange after wearing it so often. "It's just nice to come home and have him there waiting for me, is all, and when he isn't, well, it's rather boring. You should have seen me on the video call last night. I was practically begging him to come back early. It was pathetic, and so unlike me."

"Probably best that no one sees what you get up to on those calls, actually," Anna laughed.

Mary blushed and smiled knowingly. "I won't show you mine as long as you don't show me yours."

"I don't need technology. My man's right here in the flesh," Anna giggled.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Lucky for me we don't live in the same building, then, though I did notice the windows rattling around last night."

"That was probably me," Anna played along, blushing and smiling happily.

"And how is the great matter going?" Mary asked gently.

Anna shook her head. "Still not pregnant. I'm shockingly calm about it. We looked at the test together yesterday morning and it didn't really bother me. Before, I used to have this sinking feeling in my stomach right before I went to check, but yesterday I didn't really mind. It was a disappointment, but it didn't feel as crushing as before."

"That's good. What did Alex say?" Mary asked.

Anna smiled. "Erm…we didn't really have a chance to talk…"

Mary laughed and shook her head. "Goodness! Well, no wonder you didn't have time to wallow. You got right back on the horse, as they say."

Anna laughed along with her, covering her mouth at Mary's innuendo.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Still laughing, Anna went over and opened it, blinking in surprise to see Jimmy Kent pop his head in.

"Hi Anna," Jimmy greeted her, amused that she was laughing. "Mary, do you have a second?"

"Sure," Mary agreed, still trying to stop laughing herself.

"I'll go and check with Edna on the afternoon schedule," Anna announced, leaving the two actors alone.

"I wanted to see if you had time to run the next scene?" Jimmy asked, scratching the back of his head and looking down at the floor.

Mary smirked. "Why's that? Read it for the first time just now, did you?"

He raised his eyes and looked at her questioningly. "No! I just wanted to get your take on it so I know how you're going to play the conversation."

She finally stopped laughing and shook her head. "All right. I'll do it if you want to."

He blinked in surprise. "Oh. Okay. Uh, we're going to take it from after the slap though, yeah?"

"What's wrong, Jimmy? Don't like it when women bite back?" she needled him, arching her eyebrow.

His mouth fell open in shock before he recovered and smiled. "I can handle it. I just like to have fair warning."

"Well what fun would that be if you saw it coming?" she continued. "Or do you not know how to improvise? Perhaps your repertoire is rather limited?"

He laughed and sat down on the small bench opposite her, holding his script on his lap. "Wow, you actually do have a sense of humour. I wasn't sure."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't believe everything you hear about me, Jimmy. I'm as capable of swanning around as anyone, but I don't like wasting my time, or having it wasted."

He nodded. "I don't want to get on your bad side. I like to have a good time, sure, but I don't want to get a reputation as someone who loafs about. Work hard, play hard, and all that."

"Fine. Work hard and we'll have no problems," she stated.

He grinned and held out his fist to her. "Deal."

She rolled her eyes and touched fists with him reluctantly.

"Right, so how did you think Orlena would react when she sees him again after the kiss?" he asked.

She flipped the page of her own script and smirked at how he was looking at his papers with a serious expression on his face. "Well, I think she's had some time to calm down after that. She's not going to be glad to see him, but she's not going to be so put off, either. She's not afraid of him, and a part of her sort of wants to know why he's interested in her. She just isn't very experienced, so she does wonder what it would be like to be with someone so different…"

He nodded and smiled as he listened.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, January 23, 2018**

"Has it started yet?" Edith asked, coming into the living room.

"Only just," Rosamund replied, tapping her finger on her tablet to raise the volume on the television.

"When will Matthew's category be called?" Edith asked, sitting down on the sofa and accepting a cup of tea from Meade, her aunt's butler.

"It should be rather early on. Do you think he's watching?" Rosamund asked.

"Definitely not," Edith laughed. "2 o'clock in the afternoon in Manchester? He's probably in the gym, or having tea with Isobel."

Rosamund shook her head in consternation. "Well, hopefully Joe will call him, if there's anything to call him about, that is."

"How often is a Golden Globe winner not nominated for an Oscar?" Edith asked.

"It happens. Aaron Taylor-Johnson was snubbed last year after he won the Golden Globe in the same category," Rosamund noted.

"Oh," Edith frowned.

"He's in tough. The Academy likes to reward films with multiple nominees. _Shattered_ was overlooked by most of the other awards shows. Matthew winning the Golden Globe was a bit of a fluke," Rosamund remarked.

"Matthew won the Golden Globe, and he's been nominated for a SAG award and a BAFTA," Edith pointed out.

"Please, my dear. The SAG awards and the BAFTAs are hardly indicative of anything," Rosamund shook her head. "He wasn't nominated for the Critics' Choice or any festival awards. Those are generally the same people who are members of the Academy."

Edith sighed.

"Don't worry. Even if Matthew isn't nominated, I'm sure he will be invited to some of the parties," Rosamund suggested.

"But he won't go to any of those," Edith replied. "He won't fly all the way to California just to go to some parties."

"Ah, well, pity," Rosamund shrugged.

They both quieted down as Cuba Gooding Jr. appeared on-screen. The Academy had recently switched to having a produced announcement video rather than a live press conference, with former winners and nominees introducing the new class of candidates.

 _'The nominees for Supporting Actor are…'_

The shot changed from the actor's smiling face to a graphic of the Oscar statue with the official category title: Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role.

Edith held her breath.

 _'Matthew Crawley in Shattered,'_ the female voice announced as Matthew's name appeared first on the screen.

"He did it!" Edith squealed, clapping her hands.

Rosamund shook her head in disbelief.

"Oh that's bloody brilliant," Edith exclaimed happily, taking out her phone. "I wonder if he'll take Isobel with him to the ceremony?"

Rosamund's mouth fell open. "What? Isobel? Why, surely he would take Mary, wouldn't he?"

Edith shrugged her shoulders while she sent Matthew a congratulatory text. "You never know. Isobel took Granny's loss so hard. Maybe he wants to bring her along and cheer her up a bit."

"Cheer her up a bit?" Rosamund repeated incredulously. "Mary's his fiancée! To say nothing for the fact that she was in the same film for which he was nominated. She ought to have been nominated herself, honestly. She was brilliant. To not bring his fiancée in favour of his mother is just not the done thing!"

"It happens. Leonardo DiCaprio brought his mum instead of Gisele that one year," Edith answered lightly. "Though I don't think they were engaged, to be fair. Then again, maybe he wasn't with her that year. It could have been another model, actually."

Rosamund's mouth gaped once more. She scrambled for her phone.

Edith smiled when she saw Matthew's reply thank you text pop up on her screen. Her phone chirped with an incoming video call from Sybil.

"Hello, darling," Edith greeted her younger sister. "Isn't it just amazing about Matthew?"

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, January 24, 2018**

"Here's the new schedule for you to review," Edna announced, coming over and placing the tablet on Paul's desk.

He picked it up and frowned, scrolling down the screen. "Why is this?"

"Mary's going to be away the week of February 19. She's going to Los Angeles for the Oscars," she informed him.

"For the entire week?" he questioned, shaking his head.

"The ceremony is on February 26, the Sunday, and she'll be there the week before for all the functions and what not. Since Matthew is a nominee, he's invited to everything," she explained.

Paul scoffed and shook his head, glancing over the schedule once more.

"What about our reservations for Nice?" he asked, putting the tablet down.

"Everything is booked," she confirmed.

He nodded. "Send a message to Vincent. Tell him that I want to talk about the party. I have some ideas that I want him to think about."

"Yes, sir," she nodded, heading off to carry out his instructions.

He pursed his lips and looked into the distance, deep in contemplation, the frown still on his face.

 **Netflix Screen Actors Guild Awards After-Party, Sunset Tower Hotel, West Hollywood, California, January 28, 2018**

"Congratulations, Matthew!"

"Thanks."

"Matthew! Way to go! Congratulations!"

"Thanks! Thank you so much."

"Matthew, absolutely fantastic. Congratulations!"

"Thank you, thank you."

"Matthew, I knew it! I just knew it! Congrats!"

"Thanks. Yeah, thanks."

Matthew weaved his way through the crowd, holding his Actor trophy for Outstanding Performance by a Male in a Supporting Role tight to his chest. He had learned rather quickly that holding the heavy bronze award at his side had the unfortunate side-effect of jabbing people inadvertently, and holding it above his head just made him look like a douche, so he circulated around the large ballroom with the statue of a naked man against his chest, careful to make sure he was holding it by its legs.

Compared to the anxiety he felt during the Golden Globes, the Screen Actors Guild Awards were a fun, carefree jaunt. He felt far more comfortable among his peers now. Even thinking of them as his peers, and not these luminescent strangers far above him, was progress. He moved among them with ease now, even stopping to say hello to those he knew, and taking all of the good wishes in stride. That didn't mean he was completely at ease. He was terrified about going to the Oscars next month. That seemed like a whole other level altogether. Still, he was enjoying himself now. This was a time to celebrate. Being recognized for _Shattered_ was a perfect close to his career-altering 2016 year, and he still had three more films to come. He had never felt so confident and optimistic about his prospects.

And he not only was able to share it all with Mary, but to see her shine on her own, at least for one night.

The television drama awards had led off the show. Henry's category was first. He won.

They didn't have time to be annoyed as Mary's category followed immediately afterward. They didn't have the energy to care about Henry at all when she won, too.

Her smile when she turned and kissed Matthew was different than when she won her Emmy. Then, she was shocked, elated, but stunned, unsure if her long wait truly was over. This time she was ecstatic and relieved, thrilled at her unlikely victory, but not nearly as overwhelmed. Her kiss was playful, holding the promise of the celebrations that were to come.

When Matthew won his award near the end of the evening, it made everything seem like a dream, as if none of this could be real. Both of them winning? Impossible.

The two of them had blazed a trail of joyful revelry through the night, with Anna and Alex in tow. The Emmys had been her night, the Golden Globes, his. Something about both of them winning made tonight absolutely epic. Countless photographs were taken, with friends and strangers, from sophisticated to silly and the entire spectrum in between. The drinks flowed, accompanied by congratulations and toasts from virtually everyone they saw. They barely spent any time at their assigned table, beating a well-worn path from the dance floor to wherever the food was being served and back, often stopping to hold court whenever they ran into people they actually knew. Mary was on the dance floor now with Anna, and he was making his way back from a rather hilarious chat with his _Black Panther_ co-star, Chadwick Boseman, to find her.

He grinned widely when he saw Natalie Dormer, his _Shattered_ co-star, through the crowd. She screamed and ran into his arms, laughing merrily.

"So fucking brilliant!" she exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek and hugging him tight. "Not bad for a Brit, hey?"

"Not bad at all," he laughed, letting her hold the trophy. They gabbed away about the film she was currently working on and were soon joined by others. He smiled and soaked it all in, thinking the night was going to never end, and being perfectly fine with it.

* * *

"The network wants you to pose for photos," Anna said apologetically, shrugging her shoulders and pulling Mary along.

"Tell them they can go bugger off!" Mary laughed, following her assistant, albeit reluctantly. "Why should I do anything for the people who cancelled my show and have ignored me ever since?"

"Because you might need them someday," Anna offered, smiling pointedly. "Watch out! Don't hold your trophy to your side like that."

"Oh yes, now that I've been exiled to France, I can't burn any bridges here on the odd chance I could be welcomed back eventually," Mary replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Let's just be quick about it! I want to find Matthew and go dance!"

Anna laughed and shook her head, navigating them through the crowd and back to the table where the _Paladin_ cast was gathered. Though the cast hadn't been nominated for Best Ensemble in a Drama Series, those who were based in Los Angeles still made the rounds of the parties.

"Over here, Mary!" Catherine, one of the actresses on the show, called, waving her over.

Mary put on her best fake smile and joined the others. Henry moved to her side and put his arm around her waist. She bristled, but held up her trophy and looked at the various cameras assembled in front of them, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. She knew he was seething over the fact that she had won, that she was taking away from the spotlight that he usually had all to himself, and that was already more than enough. Even now, her red Chanel gown with the plunging neckline and sheer sleeves was the focus of all the photographers.

"Mary and Henry! Please! Just the two of you with the trophies, please!" the photographers called out.

She remained in place and held her trophy up, keeping the smile on her face as he pressed closer to her while everyone else moved away.

"He'll never do you the way I can, and you know it," he whispered, smiling and posing all the while. "Going public and getting engaged was a nice move to keep you relevant to the media, but he's not star material. He'll fade away by this time next year."

She didn't say a word.

"When you do eventually leave him, keep your rings," he continued. "I like it when a woman wears another man's rings to bed."

She turned and looked at him, her face lit up as though she was telling him a funny joke while the cameras continued to snap away.

"I'd let him fuck me right in front of you so you could see how many times he makes me scream his name," she hissed. "But he's too much of a gentleman for that. A pity, really. You might have learned something to try out on the next crack whore you bang pretending that she's me."

He looked at her and smiled, though she could tell his eyes were full of rage.

"Thank you, everyone," she smiled to the photographers before she slinked away without another word to Henry. A smug thrill fluttered in her stomach until she looked up and saw Matthew standing nearby, his eyes narrow, his lips pursed in a thin line. He had obviously seen her posing with Henry, his arm around her, her smiling and whispering to him as though they were old lovers.

Damn.

* * *

Anna sipped her champagne and bobbed her head slightly to the music. After bringing Mary to the _Paladin_ photos, she had went and gotten another drink and searched for her husband. Her job as Mary's personal assistant was over for the evening, and what an evening it was. She always took Mary's triumphs and setbacks a bit too personally, but the advantage to that approach was that she felt on top of the world tonight. To see her best friend win despite the show being cancelled and Mary having been frozen out of Hollywood over her parents' scandal was glorious. For one night, Mary had been redeemed, and Anna wanted to enjoy it as much as she could before they went back to Paris.

A sudden shiver went down her spine and she frowned, glancing around the room. All of the industry came out as this was the one awards show put on by the actors for the actors. Her colleagues and friends in the business didn't always show up at the Emmys or Golden Globes if their bosses weren't nominated, but she usually saw everyone at the SAG Awards and the after-parties.

She felt anxious as she looked around. Mary hadn't mentioned anything about Tony Gillingham flying in from England, so Anna assumed that his dreadful assistant, Alexander Green, wouldn't be around, either.

A wave of alarm swept over her when she thought of Green. They had met at an event just last year, and when Tony joined the cast of _Paladin_ for its fifth and final season, she had gotten to know him well, or so she thought. After her miscarriage, she had stupidly pulled away from Alex, feeling unworthy of his love, and tried to lose herself in her work and behaving like a different person. Green had played her perfectly. Instead of being a shoulder to cry on, he had offered her distraction and mindless fun, making no illusions about what exactly he wanted from her. Like unsuspecting prey, she had fallen for it, allowed herself to be seduced by the idea of running away from her problems with a night of forbidden sex. She had almost ruined everything, a sudden discovery of just how vile Green really was shocking her back to reality just in time to save herself from making the biggest mistake of her life.

Rebuilding her marriage was an ongoing process. Alex had forgiven her, something that she still could barely believe, and together they had confronted Green, letting him know that he was to stay away from her. Still, she couldn't control whether he showed up at an industry event like this one, and she had an eerie feeling that he was here somehow, watching her, plotting against her, planning his revenge.

She bit her lower lip and swallowed nervously. There was a dark side within her that had been attracted to Green before, a part of her that dared to think of all the depraved things he could do to her. She and Alex were slowly discovering her fetishes together, and what it added to their marriage was both shocking and incredible. Now, though, she was panicking. In a room of over a thousand people, she was worried about one. One man who, if he was able to corner her, might hurt her, either by force, or worse, by manipulation.

She pulled out her phone. As she frantically texted her husband to find out where he was, she almost screamed when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Love?" Alex asked, looking at her with concern.

"Oh God!" she gasped, turning and hugging him fiercely. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry," he mumbled in confusion, holding her close. "You're shaking. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing now," she shook her head. Even with her heels on he was still nearly a foot taller than her. She pulled him down into a firm kiss. "I was worried that the bastard was here."

He blinked and looked around the room cautiously. "I haven't seen him. Tony's not here, so he shouldn't be, either."

"I know, but I just got a strange feeling just now," she explained. "It was just in my head. Stupid."

"Hey," he called gently, drawing her eyes to his. "It's not stupid. There's nothing wrong with being alert."

She nodded and ran her hands over his chest. "Can we go? I'm done for the night, and I want you."

He smirked. "Don't you need to watch over Mary? She's got another three parties to go to."

"She has a fiancée to handle that," she noted with a smile. "And I have a husband. A gorgeous, patient, wonderful, sexy husband, and I want him to take me back to our hotel right now."

He grinned. "Whatever you say, love."

She breathed in relief and held tight to his hand, following him to the exit.

* * *

Mary rested her head against Matthew's shoulder. She could feel the tension in him even as he held her and they turned about on the dance floor. Bringing him out here was supposed to be a peace offering, a neutral ground where they could be together and forget about him seeing her with Henry, but it hadn't worked. She could tell he was thinking about it, that it was weighing on him still. This was a problem that slow dancing to Eric Clapton's _Wonderful Tonight_ was not going to solve by itself.

Taking a deep breath, she raised her head and looked at him, his face tight and seething.

"Darling," she began. "Nothing happened. You must know that."

"Of course nothing happened," he replied, not looking at her. "Nothing but some candid snaps and smiles between old friends."

She rolled her eyes. The sarcasm in his voice was so sharp it could cut glass.

She knew he wasn't jealous. He had no reason to be. She was his fiancée. He knew how much she detested Henry. It was more what Henry represented, the place he used to have in her life that incensed Matthew so. They were co-stars and love interests on _Paladin_ for four years, but off-screen they had crafted a fake romance – a 'showmance' – for publicity and buzz, and Matthew had to endure all of that, even in the years when he and Mary weren't together. The whole scheme had blown up in her face over a year ago when Henry was caught doing drugs at a party in Australia. He was subsequently written off the show. She tried to distance herself from him, but the damage was already done. _Paladin_ completed a fifth season, with the finale airing a few weeks ago, and the network shut it down. They weren't prepared to go ahead with just Mary, much to her dismay.

It didn't help that Henry was a total ass, especially to Matthew. At first, Henry thought Matthew was a nobody, an unknown actor not even in the same stratosphere as he was, with all his awards and high profile film roles. When Henry found out that Matthew and Mary were dating again, he was furious. He always believed that eventually Mary would come around, that her defences would wear down and she would be his. To lose her to a man he considered his gross inferior was an affront to his massive ego. Now that Matthew was an award winner as well, Henry hated him even more. For his part, Matthew just thought Henry was an idiot, a pompous loser not worth even thinking about. Seeing Mary pay any attention to him though, no matter how staged or harmless, brought back all the bad memories from before.

"I did that for the network. They wanted us to take photos since we both won for the show," she explained. "I didn't want to, but you know how it is."

He finally looked at her, though his annoyance was ever present. "I'm well aware, yes."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on. Can't we just forget about it? He's nothing to me, you know that."

He frowned. "You seemed rather cosy together, fake or not."

She smirked, hoping her mood would lighten his. "Actually, I was telling him how you're a much better man than he is. He was quite angry at that. So you see? No harm done."

He snorted, unconvinced. "I don't like it when you interact with him, even if it's to insult him, or whatever. He's delusional and he'll twist it all in his sick mind to make it seem as though you like spending time with him, that your sparring is all part of you playing coy, that there's some unresolved tension between the two of you, or some other ridiculous idea that he can come up with. It's better if you just stay away from him."

"I know," she agreed patiently. "But we both won for the same show. I didn't talk to him at all tonight except for that one moment, and I promise it was not nearly as pleasant a conversation as it appeared."

He sighed, the scowl still evident on his face.

She frowned. This was beginning to get frustrating. It wasn't as if this was her fault.

"Darling, this isn't worth getting all worked up over. There could be men all over this place having scandalous thoughts about me. If you aren't worried about any of them, then why worry about Henry?" she asked.

He stared at her in disbelief. "Well, I hadn't thought about it that way, but now that you mention it, I'm wondering what these other men are thinking, so thanks."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. The song had already changed, but they still stood together in hold, trying not to start a fight in the middle of the dance floor.

"He had his arm around you. He had his grubby hands on you," he sneered.

"So what? You've seen him pretend to have sex with me on camera. Putting his hands on me is nothing," she replied.

He blinked and huffed in shock. "Thanks."

"That came out wrong," she admitted.

He grunted and looked away.

She searched for something to say, finally smiling when she found it.

"Matthew," she called softly.

He looked back at her.

"You didn't like seeing me with Henry because he had his hands on me, right? You didn't like seeing him act like he always does around me, like he owns me, yes?" she asked.

He nodded. "I hate how he takes such liberties with you."

"Because that's not his right, it's yours," she nodded.

His eyes widened in surprise. "No, that's not why…"

"I belong to you, not him," she continued, smiling at him mischievously. "How dare he touch your fiancée, your woman?"

"That's not it," he struggled. "You're no one's property."

She raised her hand and flashed her engagement ring at him. "No, but I've given myself to you, haven't I? I've chosen you. To have and to hold, for better for worse, to love, cherish, and obey…"

He swallowed, his frown vanished. "I assumed you would remove that part from your vows."

She smiled and leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. "Maybe I won't say it out loud in the church, no, but I don't mind saying it to you in private. I'll obey you, Matthew. I'll obey you completely."

He let out a harsh breath. "Don't play with me. I don't deserve it."

"You deserve my absolute and unconditional loyalty," she stated sultrily, delighting in feeling his grip tighten on her waist. "What can I do to make it up to you, Matthew? I'll do anything."

"Stop it," he snarled. "This is serious, Mary!"

"Oh, so very serious," she agreed. "I've been so bad and I need you to punish me and remind me of my rightful place."

He grunted as she licked his ear. "You can't just sweep this all away by…"

"I don't want to sweep it all away," she drawled. "I want you to teach me a very important lesson for as long as it takes for me to take it all in, all night if you have to."

"God, Mary," he growled, nuzzling her neck and breathing in her perfume.

"Darling, we both know that Henry means nothing. I understand that you're angry, but it was just a stupid photo op. Now, you can either go and beat the hell out of him for getting all handsy with me and cause a scene, or we can go back to the hotel and work out all of your frustration in a much more enjoyable way," she teased.

"You do make a good argument," he admitted, unable to resist kissing her neck lightly.

"Mmm, and I meant what I said – I'll do anything for your forgiveness," she promised.

"We both know that I've already forgiven you, if there was even anything to forgive," he chuckled.

"Hmm, well let's pretend that you haven't just yet," she replied.

He lifted his head and she gave him a warm kiss, sliding her tongue against his, giving him a hint of what awaited him.

He took her hand and whisked her away.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, January 31, 2018**

"What are you doing? What do you think you're doing? Hey! What you doing over there? What in the world are you doing? World? Hell? What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Matthew mumbled as he typed away on his laptop.

Anna glanced over at him sitting on the bed, laptop balanced on the portable desk on his lap, brow knit in concentration. She turned to Mary for an explanation.

"Don't mind him," Mary smirked, rolling her eyes as she looked over her suitcase opened on a luggage stand. "He's hard at work on his opus. It's a rather Augean task, as you can tell by the epic dialogue he's currently composing."

Anna smiled. "Need any help, Matthew? We could read a scene for you, if you like?"

"No, thanks," he replied, continuing with his typing. "I'm beginning to get a sense of how it all works, so I'm just trying to get down as much as I can while it's still fresh in my mind."

"It's best if we let him tackle it himself," Mary whispered conspiratorially, though still loud enough for Matthew to hear.

Anna smiled and shook her head. She went over to the closet and came back with two different outfits, holding them up for Mary to examine.

"Hmm. Well it will be rather mild, though not warm," Mary stated. "I like the blue one. I can always wear a shawl or jacket if it's too cold for bare shoulders."

Matthew looked up and peered over at the halter top and skirt that Anna was now packing in Mary's suitcase.

"That's a rather interesting outfit to wear to go scout shooting locations, isn't it?" he asked.

"That's not all that we're doing there," Mary replied, looking at him over her shoulder. "I told you. Paul's arranged some meetings and events for us to go to with studio heads and investors."

"I can't say I've ever been in a meeting where anyone's dressed like that," he remarked.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "I think it's cute. I've worn something similar for press junkets and TCAs. A tired pantsuit won't do. The star of the project must look the part."

He sighed and went back to his drafting.

"Make sure that I have plenty of workout clothes," Mary called to Anna. "If the weather is decent enough, I want to do my run along the beach."

"Got it," Anna answered, rummaging through the closet.

"If Paul wants to impress the studio and the investors, why is it just you and him going? Shouldn't he bring some of the other cast, too?" he asked, not looking up from his screen.

"That's exactly why he's not bringing Jimmy, most likely. The man knows how to appeal to women, but would probably make an arse of himself in front of a room full of investors. Besides, we're meeting one of the other cast members when we get to Nice," Mary explained.

"Let me guess, another woman," he suggested.

"Another actress, yes," Mary confirmed.

"Why the need for such promotion? I thought the film was already financed?" he asked.

"But worldwide distribution is still to be arranged," Mary advised. "I think Paul wants to firm up the deals to get the film into the Scandinavian countries, in particular."

He nodded.

"Anna and Alex are going to keep an eye on you while I'm gone," Mary teased, smiling at Anna as her assistant came back into the bedroom and put her workout gear into the suitcase. "They'll report to me if you get up to no good."

"Anna will report me. Alex has been sworn to secrecy," he replied.

Anna laughed.

"Besides, aren't we going to talk every night, anyway?" he asked.

"If I can manage it. I'll be terribly busy, you know," Mary joked.

He shook his head and kept typing away.

 **Restaurant de Bacon, Antibes, France, February 1, 2018**

Mary held on to Paul's arm as they strolled down the cobblestone street. The deep blue waters of the Mediterranean were on one side, stretching out to the setting sun on the horizon. The air was crisp and clean, tickling her bare legs beneath her short skirt. Since arriving on the Riviera in the morning, they had toured several potential filming locations, a driver taking them all around Nice and the surrounding hills. The weather was lovely, and something about being on the coast made her feel relaxed and at ease. There were some beautiful buildings and beaches that they had toured, and she was looking forward to coming back here to shoot her scenes. It was one of those days when she almost couldn't believe this was her job, touring around the luxurious coast of France and heading to dinner at a Michelin starred restaurant to end the evening.

"Restaurant de Bacon…the Bacon Restaurant?" she mused, smiling at Paul. "Why do you supposed it's called that?"

"The restaurant is on Point de Bacon," he explained. "This road is Boulevard de Bacon."

"Yes, but they serve seafood, not pork," she noted.

He laughed and shook his head. "Eat first. You can judge the name after."

She smiled and nodded, following him into the restaurant.

Unsurprisingly, Paul was greeted like a member of the family by the staff. The hostess called him by name and kissed him on both cheeks before ushering them through the restaurant. He greeted two waitresses, the bartender and a bus boy in similar fashion on their way to a table covered with white linens with a breath-taking view of the sea.

"Oh, Paul! It's magnificent!" Mary exclaimed, going over to the terrace and looking out to the water.

He smiled and came to stand next to her.

"Are you sure you can't come up with a new scene where Orlena has dinner at this place?" she teased.

He laughed and shook his head. "Come. Sit."

Also unsurprisingly, no menus were brought out. The chef came over to greet Paul as the waitress served them, each a Kir Royal apéritif. He made casual conversation before kissing Mary on both cheeks and heading back to the kitchen. She took a sip of the champagne cocktail and found it delicious, smiling as she looked out to the sea once more.

"It doesn't seem particularly busy for a Michelin starred restaurant," she noted, looking around her at the empty tables.

"They've closed off this section for us," he shrugged. "You know how I like to have my privacy when I eat."

She laughed and nodded. "What's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

He smiled and waved his hand. "Tonight, we eat. Tomorrow is tomorrow."

She smiled and dropped her questions for the evening as bread was brought to the table.

The first course was the restaurant's famous _bouillabaisse_ fish soup, paired with a different wine, this time a white Burgundy. A waiter wheeled a cart over to their table, holding a steaming pot of soup. He produced platters of different fish and expertly cut off several fillets and placed them in two elegant china bowls. Ladling the fragrant broth over top of the fish, he finished with a flourish and bowed his head before departing. Her mouth watered just looking at all the ingredients floating in the clay coloured soup.

"Here," he said, taking one of the bowl and placing it between them on the table. "You must eat it properly to enjoy all the different flavours."

He dipped his spoon in the broth carefully and held it out to her. She leaned forward and tasted the soup, careful not to spill any of it. She took a moment to savour the taste – a rich and salty flavour.

"What do you taste?" he asked.

"Fish, obviously," she replied. "It's salty, but very good."

He nodded with approval. "Bon. Next."

He fed her several more spoonfuls, breaking off different pieces of fish, no spoon being the same as the next. She found his dedication amusing since she assumed the flavour would be uniform throughout. She was quite wrong, to her delight. Each spoon tasted different and complex. The spice of saffron. The heat of chili. The unique sea-flavour of the fish filets. He told her when to sip her wine to enhance the flavours in her mouth. By the time he brought the second bowl over for her to try on her own, she was craving it like candy.

"You know, I thought I'd had this before elsewhere, but never anything like this," she raved enthusiastically. "This is lovely."

He smiled. "Every region does it differently. Here we are on the sea. The seafood is fresh, caught just today. It is what makes this place so wonderful. But, you must taste it properly. It is not a chowder, or something that you just shovel into your mouth like an American."

"And you've been here often, clearly," she commented, enjoying another spoonful.

"Many times. Many meetings. Many events. Always for work," he informed her.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Work only? I find it hard to imagine that you wouldn't find anytime to play in a place like this."

He chuckled. "Yes, but that can be work as well."

She laughed in understanding. "Indeed. There's always someone watching, isn't there?"

"There's always someone to impress," he agreed. "But that is for another time, another event. Tonight, we eat in comfort."

He raised his glass to her and she did the same in return before taking a sip.

After the bouillabaisse came duck foie gras and ravioli stuffed with crayfish. She sampled each, but avoided having too much, knowing there were several dishes to come if this was a typical meal with Paul. Salt-crusted sea bass followed, and she was glad she had saved room for it. The Sancerre paired with it was wonderful, as well.

"That was fantastic, truly," she declared, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. "I feel sorry for everyone who must make do with the regular à la carte menu."

He laughed and nodded.

"Dare I ask what is for dessert?" she smiled, arching her eyebrow.

"Dessert in a bit," he replied. "First, there is someone that I want for you to meet."

She looked at him curiously. "Who?"

He looked past her and smiled.

She turned around and blinked in surprise.

It wasn't often that anyone made a real impression on Mary at first glance. Being in the business for so long, she'd met thousands of men and women of all types – gorgeous, rich, brilliant, muscular, sometimes even a combination of all of the above. She usually waited for someone to open their mouth before she gauged whether her initial observations were accurate.

A tall woman came into their section. Her skin was dark, which made her green eyes all the more rare, exotic and captivating. She walked with a model's grace, but she was neither waifish, nor lanky. Her white tank top and sheer blouse were sophisticated, yet casual. When she spotted Paul, she smiled wide and came running over.

"Papa!" she laughed, kissing him on the lips and hugging him.

Mary watched the scene with interest, standing up and waiting for the two of them to finish their very friendly greeting.

"This is _Marie_ ," Paul said, smiling and waving his hand towards Mary. "She will be your Orlena."

"Ah! _Marie_! Hello," the woman smiled, coming over and kissing Mary on both cheeks.

Mary returned her greeting somewhat awkwardly.

" _Marie_ , this is Aline Sakho. She will be your Ludivine," he informed her.

Mary blinked and looked from Paul to Aline and back again. This woman, who stood several inches taller than her, would be playing one of her three lovers in the movie they were filming.

"Sit, sit," he urged them. "Now we have dessert."

They all took their seats, Aline sitting next to Paul. The waiter brought out fruit sherbet and mille-feuille with strawberries and raspberries. Mary picked at her food as Paul and Aline carried on a lively conversation in French. They were quite comfortable with each other, often touching each other's arms and shoulders as they spoke. Eventually, Aline turned to Mary, her eyes and smile bright.

"Papa…Paul has told me so much about you, _Marie_. He said that we would be perfect for these two characters, and now that I finally meet you, I can see why. We are going to have a great time on this film, no?" Aline laughed.

Mary nodded politely. "I'm afraid he hasn't mentioned anything about you to me. Have you worked with him quite a bit?"

"Yes, yes," Aline nodded. "This will be our, what, Papa? Fifth movie?"

"Sixth," he corrected her before turning to Mary. "Aline usually has had smaller roles in my other movies, but I think she is ready for the challenge of playing Ludivine. You two can spend time together and become better acquainted during this visit, and she will come to Paris next week. Her scenes do not start until next month, but I want her to be on set, spending time with everyone, getting comfortable."

Mary nodded in agreement. "It will be good to have another woman here with me. I was dreading having to drag Paul around while I shopped."

Aline laughed and nodded knowingly. "Yes, yes. We can leave him behind to his work while we enjoy ourselves. It is so beautiful here, no?"

Mary smiled and cut a piece of mille-feuille with her fork while Paul told her all about their wonderful dinner.

 **Townhouse of Dr. Sybil Crawley and Tom Branson, Brooklyn, New York, February 1, 2018**

"Tom Branson, bring your bloody Irish arse up here and get your daughter to take a nap!"

Tom sighed and frowned at Matthew's smiling face on his tablet.

"Don't you say a word," Tom warned, getting up off the sofa and heading for the stairs, carrying his tablet along.

"I haven't said anything," Matthew replied, smiling knowingly.

"No, but you're smiling," Tom grumbled. "Just you wait, mate. It'll be your turn soon enough, and I will enjoy every second of it."

"By the time we get around to having children, you'll be on to your third," Matthew joked.

"Not likely. I'll be lucky if Sybil doesn't have me fixed after the second one," Tom complained.

Matthew laughed.

"You bellowed, my love?" Tom asked, coming into the nursery.

Sybil glared at him, holding Emily against her chest and rocking her up and down. "I'm done. She's all yours. She won't go to sleep! I have no idea why!"

"Maybe it's because you're jostling her around like a sack of potatoes," Tom answered. "Here, go lie down and talk to Matthew. I'll be in once I've dealt with this one."

She traded Emily for the tablet and grunted when Tom kissed her on the cheek. He took his daughter and held her in front of him, making wide eyes and silly faces at her.

"Come on now, Emma, let's go to sleep, shall we? You need to take a nap before dinner. Come on, my little sweetheart," Tom cooed, bringing her over to her crib.

The baby laughed merrily.

Sybil rolled her eyes at Matthew and left the nursery, shuffling over to the bedroom and slumping wearily into bed.

"The miracle of motherhood, hmm, darling?" Matthew joked.

"Shut up, you," she frowned, shaking her head at him and getting comfortable against the pillows. "She fights me on everything, and yet one smile from that man and she's a little angel all of a sudden."

"She must take after her mother, then," he replied. "Can't resist the Branson charm."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. That's it."

He laughed.

"Anyway, what's going on with you? All on your own and on the loose in Paris. You must be running wild," she smirked.

"Yeah, I've got drugs and women all over the place," he retorted sarcastically. "I've been working on my script. Tom was just helping me with it a bit."

"Oh God, the two of you working on it will guarantee it'll never see the light of day," she groaned. "What's it about?"

"None of your business, yet," he smiled. "No, he was just helping me organize my thoughts a little bit. I've got pages and pages of ideas, but they're sort of all over the place."

"Or you could just leave it all out of order. Aren't they calling that 'non-linear narrative' these days?" she joked.

"I think that's what it's called in the hands of actual experienced writers and directors. For a novice like me, it's called 'jumbled mess'," he shrugged.

She laughed.

"How are you, darling? Happy to be back in New York?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, though it is a bit strange to have Tom head off to work while I just stay at home with Emily. The day goes by rather quickly between taking her out and what not, but I miss work. Or, I suppose it would be more accurate to say I miss the routine of work. When we were back at Downton, I didn't miss it all. Here, though, I keep thinking that I have somewhere to be, when I actually don't."

"I hear you. Even when I was with Mother in Manchester, I felt as though there weren't enough hours in the day to go to all the places we wanted to go, and visit with the people we wanted to see. Here, I write a few pages and think I've been at it for hours, when it's really just mid-morning," he sympathized.

"So that's it, then? You're going to write for a while and not pick up another film?" she asked.

"At least through February," he confirmed. "By then I should have an idea of how much progress I've made, or lack thereof. Joe sent me a bunch of scripts a few weeks ago. I haven't looked at them yet. I'd have to move to another country again, though, which I don't really want to do."

"If only Mary were actually there right now to hear you say that," she smiled.

"We've talked about it. She would rather I be working, but that's because she's quite busy each day so it's not a big deal to her if I'm gone for a few months. I don't really want that to be our routine though. Ideally, I'd rather one of us is off while the other works, and we just trade back and forth," he mentioned.

"There you go getting ideas again," she sighed. "I don't know what it would be like for Mary to be off for months at a time. Every year she had a hiatus from _Paladin_ , she always scrambled to pick something up to fill the time."

"Well we both must adapt," he noted. "I'm not going to be one of those couples that only sees each other for a few months at a time."

"It doesn't sound that bad, honestly," she replied, smirking at Tom as he came into the bedroom.

"Fine by me. I'll go over to Paris and hang out with Matthew for a few months," Tom huffed, coming to bed.

"Or I'll go over to Paris while you stay here," she retorted.

"We could do that, too. Just make sure you bring plenty of clothes for Emma. It can get cold over there this time of year," Tom said easily.

"What's that? You want to sleep on the couch tonight?" she asked, punching him in the arm.

"All right, you two, I'll let you go," Matthew chuckled.

"Good night, darling. If you don't hear from Tom for a few days, it's because I've killed him," she stated, blowing Matthew a kiss.

"Good night, mate. Talk tomorrow, yeah?" Tom waved.

"Sure. Night," Matthew replied before ending the call.

 **Private Residence, Nice, France, February 1, 2018**

Mary frowned, watching the video on her tablet screen. She had tracked down a clip from one of Paul's old movies, called _Free Spirit_. It was about a family that rented out a room in their home to a student, and all the changes in their lives as a result of their interactions with her.

The student was played by Aline.

In the clip, the mother and daughter were lounging by the pool when Aline entered. She was topless, and the camera followed her as she walked around the pool deck past the stunned family members and stretched out on a lounge chair. The movie was produced years ago, and it was Aline's fourth collaboration with Paul. Mary found the plot quite convoluted and unrealistic, however Aline's performance as the mysterious and seductive student was quite noteworthy. Paul had shot all of her scenes with relatively few colours, so that her dark skin stood in stark contrast to the white surroundings. It drew the audience's eye naturally to her whenever she entered the shot, and mimicked the reaction of the family.

"Got anything?" Mary asked, speaking into her headset.

"Aline Sakho," Anna answered. "Born Dakar, Senegal. Her parents moved the family to Paris when she was three years old. Signed with Viva Models at 17. Worked exclusively for Tom Ford in the beginning of her career. Featured on the cover of _Vogue_ in America, Japan, France, Italy and Spain. Began her acting career with a small non-speaking role in _Charmant_ , directed by Paul Chaput. Has since gone on to do ten movies, five for Chaput. Known for her exotic green eyes, dark skin, and height. Height? How tall is she?"

"At least six feet, I think," Mary replied. "So Paul discovered her. That explains it."

"That explains what?" Anna asked.

"The connection between them. They're very close. She calls him 'Papa'," Mary recalled.

"Papa? Does that have the same connotation in French as it does in English?" Anna asked.

"It's a term of endearment between them. I don't know what else it means. So, she's one of his favourites, then," Mary mused. "That's good to know."

"Does it matter? You're the lead. She's barely a supporting role," Anna noted.

"I like to know who I'm working with, and if she's already got a relationship with Paul, that gives her an advantage," Mary replied.

"Maybe, but she's not your rival. Paul built this movie around you," Anna pointed out.

"He did, but every film he's done with her, she's gotten more and more screen time with each one. She's in a supporting role here, but she might be the lead in the next one," Mary stated.

"And what does that matter? Are you already contemplating doing another movie with Paul? We've barely started this one," Anna remarked.

"I want to be open to the possibility. It's not as if winning the Emmy and the SAG award has the studios inviting me back to Hollywood. I need to always be thinking six months ahead. Once this film wraps, what's next?" Mary said.

"Well, once this film wraps, it'll almost be time for your wedding," Anna said.

"Yes, but I'm speaking professionally, of course," Mary clarified. "I must make myself indispensable, so that Paul thinks of me first when he plans his next project. That way, I can always turn him down if something better comes along, but I'd rather have the choice."

"And you think that Aline is a threat?" Anna asked.

"I don't know. She's friendly with Paul, though, which could make her my competition," Mary answered.

They continued discussing the schedule for the next weeks. Mary was staying in Nice with Paul and Aline until they returned to Paris on Tuesday. Matthew's film premiere for _Black Panther_ was on Thursday in London. Mary would go with him, but had to be back in Paris by Friday night to continue filming over the weekend. That left her with barely a week before she was leaving for Los Angeles and the Oscars.

"I can barely believe that we're going to the Oscars," Anna exclaimed.

"And all because of Matthew, of all people," Mary shook her head. "It's one of the rare occasions where we're attending an event that even I've never been to before. I want to convince myself that it'll be just like any other awards show, but it simply isn't."

Anna outlined the itinerary for the week in California, then wished her best friend good night, hanging up the call.

Mary turned on to her side, propping herself upon the pillows and placing the tablet before her. She brought up another clip of Aline from the same film, this one a tense scene where she manipulated the family daughter to carry out a rather pointless attempt to poison her own mother. When she was confronted with the scheme, Aline laughed maniacally, hurling insults at the family before leaving the house. Once again, with the way Paul framed each shot, it was impossible not to pay attention to Aline over the others.

Mary frowned and watched the scene again.

* * *

 **Song Credits:**

 **Wonderful Tonight –** Eric Clapton, (1977), RSO Records


	3. Chapter 3

**Previously:**

 **Private Residence, Nice, France, February 1, 2018**

"I can barely believe that we're going to the Oscars," Anna exclaimed.

"And all because of Matthew, of all people," Mary shook her head. "It's one of the rare occasions where we're attending an event that even I've never been to before. I want to convince myself that it'll be just like any other awards show, but it simply isn't."

Anna outlined the itinerary for the week in California, then wished her best friend good night, hanging up the call.

Mary turned on to her side, propping herself upon the pillows and placing the tablet before her. She brought up another clip of Aline from the same film, this one a tense scene where she manipulated the family daughter to carry out her pointless attempt to poison her own mother. When she was confronted with the scheme, Aline laughed manically hurling insults at the family before leaving the house. Once again, with the way Paul framed each shot, it was impossible not to pay attention to Aline over the others.

Mary frowned and watched the scene again.

 **Chapter 3:**

 **2 Place Vendôme, 1er Arrondissement, Paris, France, February 2, 2018**

"Put your head in his lap. Yes, that's it, now look up at him. Yes, yes. Matthew, your hand – put it on her neck, just like so, no, no, not there, lower, yes, lower, yes, yes, hold that. Okay. And looking over to the window, Matthew. Yes, yes, perfect, hold, hold, wonderful!"

Matthew breathed slowly through his nose, trying to stay as still as possible. He still didn't consider himself a model by any stretch. Larissa, the girl currently with her head practically in his crotch was far more experienced in the industry than he was, but he tried to be as professional as possible during these photo shoots, if only so he could get it over with sooner.

Milan Fashion Week was currently running, with Armani having just debuted its Spring/Summer collection. As part of its social media campaign, the fashion house was shooting new material to go online later this month during Paris Fashion Week, and with Matthew conveniently already in the city, they had him take part, this time wearing both Armani clothing and their signature watch.

He kept staring at the far window as the photographer circled around them, snapping away from all angles. It was a shame that Mary had to miss out on this shoot. She already had invitations from various labels to attend shows after they got back from the Oscars. She would be in Nice through the weekend with her director, Paul Chaput, so she wished Matthew luck last night over video chat, and already instructed Alex to take photos for her to see later.

Matthew could make out his best friend on the edge of his peripheral vision, dutifully recording a video with his smartphone camera.

"All right, Matthew, for this one, I want you to look down on her and hold eye contact, and we make sure the watch is properly facing out, yes?" the photographer stated, waving his assistants over.

The hair and make-up people came forward to do touch ups and the lighting crew checked the glare from the large lamps set up around the room. They were shooting in a large studio space that was used by Louis Vuitton for runway shows. It had a very industrial and minimalist feel, the venue having not been set up for the show yet. The crew had thrown some white sheets over several large boxes and Matthew and Larissa had spent the past hour posing in different positions.

She turned over on to her back, lying across Matthew's thighs and looking up at him. One of the assistants adjusted the watch on Matthew's wrist until it was approved by the photographer. With the watch in proper position, she brought his other hand down to rest above Larissa's cleavage and placed his other wrist, with the watch on it, over top.

"There, stay like that," she ordered, getting up and leaving them.

Matthew nodded and looked down at Larissa sheepishly.

"Sorry about this," he mumbled.

"What are you sorry for?" Larissa asked.

"Just…erm…my hands…I obviously didn't choose for them to be on your…erm…" he struggled.

She smiled up at him. "I've been through worse."

They kept looking at each other as the photographer moved in and took his photos.

 **Hermes Boutique, Nice, France, February 2, 2018**

Mary frowned at the three silk scarves spread out on the glass counter before her. She crossed her arms over her front, her eyes wandering from one large square sash to the next, weighing the colours and design of each one. They were 36 inches by 36 inches, versatile enough to be worn as a scarf, a bracelet or tied to one of the French label's designer bags. She could picture different outfits she could wear each one with, different bags that matched. That was her problem. She could make any of them work with the many items in her wardrobe. She sighed, perturbed that a decision wasn't forthcoming. Perhaps she should just take all three?

"What do you think? They are beautiful, no?" Aline asked, coming to her side.

"They are," Mary nodded. "I can't seem to decide."

"You cannot decide by just looking at them like this," Aline shook her head. She reached over and picked up one of them. "I like this one. It is so elegant."

She turned and wrapped the scarf around Mary's neck, looping it across her front. She smoothed the ends out, her hands ghosting across Mary's skin as she tucked it into the open neck of her top, just above her bra.

"There. Now, look," Aline ordered, taking Mary by the shoulders and turning her towards the full length mirror on the wall.

Mary looked at their reflection in the mirror. The scarf did look elegant, Aline was right about that. She could not help but notice the model-turned-actress still held her from behind, dark fingers on pale skin. Her grip was warm and firm, her smile white and pleasant.

"It is gorgeous, no?" Aline asked enthusiastically. "It makes any top immediately so much more sophisticated, and the blue goes with so many different colours. You could also wear it out instead of tucked in."

She reached around and pulled the scarf free of Mary's top, straightening the two ends and arranging them over Mary's chest.

Mary nodded slowly, watching the woman's hands. It reminded her of how Aline seemed to draw the focus of the audience in every scene from her films. She had a presence about her on screen, and also in person. Her voice, her height, her beautiful skin tone, darker than mahogany, the total package was all quite captivating. Now that Mary had spent more time with her, she could see how Aline had not only enjoyed a successful modeling career, but was able to transition into acting. She wasn't just a pretty face. She had a vibrant, carefree attitude that was rather refreshing. Even if she only had small roles so far, her talent was palpable.

"These pieces are so useful, they can be worn in different styles," Aline continued, undoing the scarf but keeping it around Mary's neck.

"The choker is very popular," Aline explained, sliding two fingers under the silk so as not to tie it too tight. Her fingers rubbed against Mary's skin as she worked, the warmth of her touch spreading across her neck. She tied the scarf tight and pulled the end around and down the back of Mary's nape. "It stands out more if you have your hair up."

Mary watched as Aline gathered her hair in her hands and lifted it up.

"Do you see?" Aline asked, her smile wide in the mirror, her breath caressing Mary's cheek. "With your hair up, they see the choker more."

Aline ran the tips of her fingers down Mary's neck and along her shoulder. "You look stunning. You should wear this to the party tomorrow!"

Mary raised her chin and turned her head, seeing how the choker looked from different angles. She finally smiled and nodded.

"Yes? You like it?" Aline asked eagerly.

"Yes, I like it," Mary confirmed.

Aline laughed and undid the scarf, pulling it from Mary's neck and setting it back down on the counter. She waved the salesperson over and told her to wrap the chosen one up, leaving the others. After handing over her credit card, Mary rubbed her neck slowly, glancing over at her reflection in the mirror. Her image seemed more staid and conservative without the splash of colour that the choker previously gave her.

" _Marie!_ Let's go! They'll deliver to the house!" Aline called. She took Mary's hand and led her out of the store and down the street to continue their shopping excursion. Mary learned this morning that Aline didn't like hauling her purchases around. She didn't think that home delivery was generally offered to all customers, but considering how much she and Aline had spent so far, the store clerks were more than happy to arrange for it.

"This weather is wonderful!" Aline gushed, putting her sunglasses back on as they strolled. "I don't know if I'll do very well back in Paris. It is too cold at this time of year for me."

Mary smiled in amusement. "I would think you would be used to it, having grown up there."

"I'm used to it, but I still do not like it," Aline laughed. "I used to try and work in South America or Asia when it turned cold, stay away until Spring."

Mary nodded. "Well, you're an actress now. You must endure the horror of spending the Winter in Paris, I'm afraid."

Aline laughed. "I will survive. Papa says that we will be so busy, there will be no time to complain about the weather."

Mary smiled, still not used to Aline referring to Paul as 'Papa'. She didn't do it all of the time, but enough to raise Mary's curiosity. Was she simply referring to him as her mentor and the man who brought her into the film industry? Or, was there something deeper there? They were quite affectionate with each other, and Paul's words to Mary over dinner from months earlier rang in her head. ' _A woman who wants to be with me must learn to share me_.' Paul was over twice their age, but such relationships between older directors and young ingénues were not uncommon in the business.

"I should not speak so badly about my city," Aline smiled and shook her head. "You will get the wrong idea. I love my city. Paris is unlike anywhere else in all the world."

"It is," Mary agreed. "Although as far as the movie business goes, it lags behind."

Aline scoffed dismissively. "New York, Los Angeles, even London, they are not Paris. There may be more business there, more money, but Papa does not make movies for money."

Mary looked at her curiously.

Aline caught her inquisitive stare.

"In America, it is so different from here. The director answers to the producers, who answer to the studio, and the studio answers to the investors. There is always someone telling everyone else what to do. That is why Papa does not make his films there. Here, he can do what he wants, tell the story that he wants, in the way that he wants it. It is about art, instead of…how you say…materialism? Money."

Mary arched her eyebrow, unconvinced. "Art over money? You're serious?"

Aline laughed in understanding. "Of course he needs money just like anyone else. That is what the party tomorrow is about, in part. But, the difference is that no one is looking over his shoulder, no? No one is constantly checking up on him and asking to see what has been done so far. No one tries to cut his movie down to fit a certain running time or to appease a certain audience. Making movies here is more…pure, at least for him."

Mary looked away, contemplating her words.

"When I first started out, I wanted so badly to go to New York one day," Aline recalled. "I worked in Paris, Milan, Madrid, even Tokyo, but New York was where the supermodels worked, I thought. Europe was the old world. New York was the next level. If you make it there, you make it anywhere, yes?"

Mary laughed. "Something like that."

Aline smiled. "Well, when I finally got there, I was so nervous, and Tom Ford said to me – 'Aline, do not worry. You already walked in Paris, Milan, Madrid, Tokyo. New York will be easy.' I think he lied a little bit to make me feel better, but he was right. My first show was very easy, and I did not think New York was so important after that. All the models that I saw there, even the famous ones, they ended up coming to Paris, to my city, to work. So, you see? It is like this. America – everyone wants to go there. Everyone thinks it is this amazing place. It is nice, yes, but it is not Paris, and one does not need America to be successful."

"So, you have no desire to go work there? You don't want to try and break into films in Hollywood?" Mary asked.

"No, no," Aline frowned, waving her hands in front of her. "Hollywood reminds me of my first jobs as a model – when there were hundreds of girls all fighting to be in the same show. Everyone was so… _impitoyable_? Ruthless, yes. And so stressed out all the time. There was no fun, no joy. Just business. Money. I wasn't a person, a woman, just a number, a face. I am happier here. Here, I have work, Papa takes care of me, and I do not feel so… _stressée_ …under pressure."

Mary looked at her carefully. "Why weren't you in _The Muse_? Did Paul not have a role for you?"

"Oh, no. I was not available, and he said that there was only a small part for me even if I could do it. But, he told me he had a better part for me in his next film, and here I am!" Aline replied happily.

Mary nodded. "And what will you do after this one?"

Aline shrugged. "Paul is always thinking about the next project, the next challenge. He said that he has an idea for the next one, and he thinks he has room for me. We will see. I am okay with waiting. If I audition for something else, probably going to be something small. Papa knows me. He knows what I can do. It's easier to work for him."

Mary kept walking. The idea of Aline being Paul's protégé certainly fit with all that she had seen so far. She was obviously in his circle of actors that he liked to work with, but was she only going to be in a supporting role, or was she being groomed to be his lead actress, even as early as the next film? Was Mary's own time with Paul going to be limited to these two films?

"Ah! Here! Come, _Marie_ , come!" Aline cheered. She took Mary's hand and brought her into a nearby store.

 **2 Place Vendôme, 1er Arrondissement, Paris, France, February 2, 2018**

Matthew sipped his water and scrolled over the different news items on his phone. He checked the time – just past noon. He hoped they were almost done. Not only did he not want to stay for too much longer, but he hated dragging Alex along. As easy as it was for his friend to use his tablet to review contracts, answer emails and do most of the work that an entertainment finance lawyer did, having him sit through a photo shoot for most of the day was hardly fair.

He checked his social media, a habit that he had reluctantly gotten into so that he could interact more with his growing fanbase. His Instagram timeline was filled with photos posted by Mary from the French Riviera. There were photos of her dinner at Restaurant de Bacon last night, a shot of the beach and the sea during her run this morning, and a picture of a vibrant blue and white Hermès scarf that she had just bought. He knew that she was taking her followers through small snippets of her day, and also stirring conversation as to why she was in Nice, but the photos only served to remind him that she was away from him.

He was about to go over and chat with Alex when his phone buzzed with an incoming call.

"Joe?" he said, answering the call from his agent's office.

"Matthew! Hello! Hello!" Joe answered cheerfully. "Is this an all right time to talk?"

"Yes, I'm on a break for the Armani shoot. What have you got?" Matthew asked, sipping his water.

"Right, okay then, well, I just wanted to call and say that your travel to London next week is confirmed. The studio has a jet for you and Mary, leaving Paris Le Bourget and flying into London Luton on Wednesday evening. The premiere is on the Thursday evening, and the studio will fly Mary back on the Friday, with your flight booked for Monday," Joe explained.

"Sounds good. We'll need space for Anna and Alex as well," Matthew advised.

"Yes, that's all taken care of," Joe confirmed.

"Good. Thanks, Joe," Matthew stated. The _Black Panther_ premiere next week was a big deal. Marvel and Disney always went all-out for their film debuts, and even though Matthew had a small role in the movie, the amount of press, paparazzi and fans gathered to see him and Mary walk the red carpet would be much larger than they had for _Shattered_. Given how that London premiere was so horribly interrupted, it would be a bit of redemption to attend this one.

"Now, about the BAFTAs," Joe continued. "They keep calling asking if Mary will be coming with you."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "She hasn't decided yet, I'm afraid."

"Matthew, we're getting up against it now. It's two weeks away, just over," Joe noted, the worry in his voice evident, even more evident than it normally is.

"I know," Matthew replied quickly. "Having my premiere, the BAFTAs and the Oscars all in the same month is difficult. Her filming schedule is already stretched as it is. She's concerned about missing so many days, is all. It's a valid point."

"All right. I'll stall them a bit more, but another week is all they'll give, I imagine," Joe advised.

"Thanks. I'll mention it to her again," Matthew responded.

"Uh, Matthew, we've gotten a fair number of calls for you lately. I wanted to go over them with you," Joe mumbled.

Matthew glanced around the large room. Everyone was busy with some task and it didn't seem as if they were starting up again yet.

"Sure. Go ahead," Matthew answered, walking over to the window. "These are about future films?"

"No, no, they aren't that," Joe stammered. "They're other types of offers."

Matthew blinked in confusion. "All right…"

"Joe! Just tell him!" Phyllis scolding voice rang out in the background.

"Uh, well, it's just that we…I…I've never handled calls like these before. Let's see, uh, yes, all right, there's a gentleman named Mr. Chan. He, or his people, rather, mentioned that they would love for you and Mary to come to some of their exclusive parties over Fashion Week?"

Matthew smiled wryly. "No thanks. He's a promoter. He wants us there so he can charge the club by saying he'll guarantee that we're spotted there. Mary already warned me about such things."

"Oh…I see…all right, that's helpful. Uh, next we have someone calling you on behalf of, uh, 'the homie, Drake'. Apparently, 'the homie' has a concert in Paris in March and is putting you and Mary on the backstage list?" Joe struggled.

Matthew almost burst out laughing. "What's that, Joe? Could you repeat the man's name again, please?"

"Uh, the homie, Drake?" Joe repeated.

Matthew had to put the phone on mute while he laughed heartily.

"Matthew?" Joe called.

Matthew shook his head and unmuted the call.

"Right, yes, Drake, what a man. Alex introduced us in Los Angeles a while back," Matthew managed, still chuckling lightly. "That sounds good. Send the details over and I'll see if Mary wants to go, but I expect I should be able to make an appearance. Next?"

"Next, yes, ah, this one was quite interesting. Lewis Hamilton's assistant called and said that the French Grand Prix will be held in the South of France in July. They said that you wanted to know?" Joe asked.

Matthew smiled and nodded. "Yes. I'm already going to watch the races in Monaco and Silverstone, but I wanted to know about France, as well. I imagine we won't be in Paris in July, but I'll hold that weekend open anyway. Maybe I'll come down for it, depending on how he's doing in the championship."

"We'll make a note of that, then," Joe answered. "We have a number of calls like that – sponsors and event organizers inviting you to Wimbledon, Royal Ascot, those sorts of things. I can have Phyllis send them over for you to look at, and just let us know which ones you want to go to."

"Royal Ascot…I think Mother might enjoy that more than I would," Matthew remarked, only half-joking. "Yes, go ahead. Anything sports related, I'll do. Nightclub invitations and what not, you can probably just turn those down."

"Very well. Any progress on those scripts we sent?" Joe asked.

Matthew shook his head. "Not yet. I might pick something up for April to June, but outside of that, I don't know. The wedding is in September and I would like to take all of August off at least. The last thing I want it to get called back for re-shoots, or have the schedule pushed. Anything I take on has to wrap well in advance of the Fall."

"Understood. Give them a look and let us know," Joe replied.

"You got it. Thanks, Joe. Tell Phyllis I said 'hello'," Matthew stated. "Bye."

He hung up the call just as one of the photographer's assistants waved him back for the next shot.

 **Lingerie Caroline, Nice, France, February 2, 2018**

"This is all so beautiful!" Aline exclaimed, moving through the store and glancing around at the various outfits.

Mary followed behind, decidedly less enthusiastic. While there were some lavish boutiques in the French Riviera, and this one seemed quite sophisticated, she wasn't lacking for underwear. Matthew saw to it that she was actually quite overstocked at all times. There were entire sexy ensembles that he had bought for her that remained unopened in her closet. The man thought that it was normal to wear a bustier and garter belt to bed each night, God bless him.

"I want to find something for our scene at the resort," Aline declared, flipping through a rack of silk corsets. "I hate what they have in wardrobe. It always seems so old, and never fits right."

Mary nodded in agreement. She'd had much the same experience working on _Paladin_ and _Shattered_. She ended up buying her own lingerie to wear in the love scenes, not really trusting or liking what wardrobe offered.

"I'm going to try these on," Aline announced, waving a store clerk over and having her take some particular items to go and open a change room.

Mary waited patiently, thankful that the French staff was smart enough not to approach her. Casting an idle glance at some of the outfits, she took out her phone and checked her messages. Matthew was on a photo shoot for Armani and was too busy to text. There was the obligatory email from Sybil updating her and Edith on how Emily was doing, complete with photos and video, and complaining about the snow in New York. Her youngest sister also mentioned various protests going on in the city that she and Tom were thinking of attending. For the sake of their baby daughter, Mary recommended they make a donation to the cause instead and avoid the mob.

Her mind wandered to the morning when she and Aline had toured a beach house with Paul, one of the last filming locations they were considering. It was such a contrast having Aline there compared to yesterday when it was just the two of them. Most of the conversation was in French, which wasn't a problem, but was yet another indication of Paul seeming to favour Aline over her. They made constant references to past projects they had worked on together, inside jokes that only they understood, and the Frenchwoman often walked along holding on to the director's arm.

' _Remember, Marie, you are the star,'_ Paul told her before they left Paris. She still believed it, but there was a different dynamic now, one that made her question how the party tomorrow with investors and studio executives would play out. Paul always made her feel as though they were collaborating, as though he was considering her opinion on decisions happening off-camera, that she was more than just an actress to him. With Aline joining them now, she felt more like an actress, assigned scenes and dialogue, and that Paul didn't need her voice on anything else.

" _Marie!_ Come, come!" Aline called from the back.

Mary rolled her eyes and put her phone away as she walked briskly to the change rooms. The store was mostly deserted, leaving just the two of them alone in the back with the store clerks out at the front.

"See what you think," Aline said, opening the door of her change room.

Mary stepped in and closed the door behind her.

Aline was standing at the other end, facing the mirror. She was wearing a red thong and bra, with a lacy corset tied to long sheer stockings. Her thighs and calves were sculpted, but not overly so, and the thong showed off her toned ass quite blatantly. Mary's eyes moved up her back and met Aline's smile in the reflection of the mirror. She could see that the bra raised her perky breasts, the cups barely covering half of them.

"Do you like?" Aline asked.

Mary shrugged. "It's very nice, yes."

Aline pouted and adjusted the bra. "Yes, but what would Orlena think? Remember, when you see me wearing this for the first time, it is supposed to shock you and hold your attention."

Mary cast a more discerning eye over Aline's body. "Red is an interesting colour."

"I did not want black or white," Aline nodded. "Black is so typical, and doesn't really stand out. White, it is not appropriate for the character. I do not think that Ludivine wears very much white."

Aline's knowing laugh echoed around the small space. "For sure, I do not, either."

Mary smirked. "Red is rather bold, yes."

"You should wear white, I think, or maybe nude," Aline mused. "Did you see anything out there that you liked? You could try something on and we can see how we look together."

Mary shook her head. "No, not really. I have plenty at home that I can use."

"Ah, okay. You can show me in Paris," Aline stated. She turned so she could examine her profile in the mirror. She arched her back slightly and appraised her bottom.

"I love how it feels," Aline beamed, running her hands up her front. "It is so soft."

She reached out and took Mary's hand, bringing her closer and placing her fingers on the lace of the corset.

"Do you see? Even the lace is soft like silk, not coarse or rough," Aline commented.

Mary slowly rubbed the material between her fingers, the warmth of Aline's skin beneath her hand. "It's quite nice."

"Okay, there is one more piece I want to show you, so you can think of Orlena's reaction," Aline declared. She turned towards the other items hanging on the wall and undid her bra and corset, leaving her in nothing but her thong and stockings.

Mary waited, her eyes watching closely.

 **2 Place Vendôme, 1er Arrondissement, Paris, France, February 2, 2018**

"I just got back from the gym. You caught me as I was about to jump into the shower," Anna said, her voice playful and light over the phone.

Alex blinked, his eyes looking down at the floor while the studio buzzed with the activity of Matthew's photo shoot. "Really?"

"Yeah," his wife replied. "I was considering not answering."

"But you saw it was me calling and so of course you did," he joked.

"Something like that, yeah," she laughed. "How's the shoot going? Are they almost done?"

"Who knows?" he grumbled. "Matthew's on to his fifth or sixth outfit. This one at least is pretty funny. He's wearing these pants that look like they were made from an old tablecloth."

"Be nice," she scolded him. "He's in demand right now. Everyone probably wants a piece of him."

"I'm sure. If he somehow goes and wins the Oscar, it'll get even crazier," he noted. "Speaking of which, what's going on for the BAFTAs? He told me that Mary still hasn't made up her mind?"

"She would rather not go, ideally," she sighed. "She thinks that Paul's getting annoyed with her skipping out so much lately. When she won the SAG, that was at least her award, but taking time out of filming so she can accompany Matthew to all these premieres and shows is different."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," he stated.

"I'm just saying," she continued. "He's up for four awards over two months. It's a lot of travel. If he was working on a film right now, he'd be up against it trying to figure out how to fit everything in, too."

"If he was working on a film and Mary was up for these same awards, he would make time, and she would expect him to," he countered. "Don't think he doesn't know that, either."

"I never said I agreed with it, I'm just saying that's what she's thinking," she clarified. "Anyway, they'll sort it out. Don't go getting him all riled up."

"When do I ever?" he asked.

"You have a way of making comments that stick with him, you know you do," she remarked.

"All right, fine. No comments," he sighed.

"Good boy. Now, I should go. I'm freezing," she said.

"Why? It shouldn't be that cold in the apartment," he frowned.

"No, it isn't, but I'm not wearing any clothes," she answered.

His eyes widened. "You…you're not?"

"No. I told you that you caught me right before I was about to jump in the shower," she reminded him.

"Well, I didn't know you were being literal," he mumbled.

"Well, I was. I had to duck under the covers to stay warm," she grumbled.

"Ah," he grunted.

"You like that, don't you? I'm freezing my ass off and all you can think about is me lying naked in bed," she giggled.

"No! That's not true," he objected.

"So you're not thinking about me lying naked in bed, then?" she questioned. "The very thought does nothing for you?"

He groaned. "Well, now that you put it that way…"

"It's a shame that you're still busy with Matthew. You know how much I love showering with you, especially when I'm all sweaty," she teased.

He glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to him. "Love, come on…"

"Mmm, yeah, if only you were here, babes. God, I would go down on you in the shower straight away," she pressed.

He looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. "Stop it."

"Have a good afternoon. Love you," she laughed.

"Love you too," he said tightly. "This isn't over."

"I certainly hope not," she shot back, hanging up the call.

He put down his phone and exhaled. Looking across the set, he willed Matthew to hurry up.

 **Institut de Beauté, Hôtel Le Méridien Nice, Nice, France, February 2, 2018**

Aline hummed in pleasure, her eyes closed, a smile on her lips. She lifted her bare leg at the woman's urging, sighing as she felt nimble fingers caress her calf before rubbing more firmly.

" _Marie_ ," she breathed. "Feel good?"

"Mmm hmm," Mary answered from the table next to hers. The masseuse was working on her shoulders, easing the tension without being too painful. After the long day roaming around Nice, a spa session was a brilliant idea. Though they were here to get manicures and pedicures ahead of tomorrow's party, she quickly arranged for facials and massages for them as well. Dinner with Paul wasn't for a while yet, and some pampering would do both of them good.

"Tell me more about this party," Mary asked, keeping her eyes closed. "Is it very stuffy?"

"No, no, it is quite fun!" Aline replied. "It is held at a villa owned by one of Papa's friends, up in the hills overlooking the town and the sea. It is very private and exclusive. Invitation only, and no press or photographers are ever allowed anywhere close. Most do not know that it even happens. The guests usually come in and leave the next day, without anyone knowing they were here."

"That sounds rather mysterious," Mary smiled. "So it isn't just a bunch of boring investors and studio executives."

"No. There are some, yes, but everyone is there for the party. Business is done, yes, but that is not the point of being there," Aline noted.

"And why are we there, then?" Mary asked. "Paul told me it was important that we meet his investors and contacts."

"It is," Aline confirmed. "But we do not discuss business with them. We are there to be seen."

"Ah," Mary noted. "Stand still and look pretty, I suppose."

"Look pretty, yes. Stand still, certainly not! You will see. I will show you," Aline promised.

Both of their masseuses asked that they turn over. Mary opened her eyes and moved on to her back, keeping her towel covering most of her. She glanced over to Aline, who still had her eyes closed. Her towel was draped across her stomach and hips. Her masseuse was working across her chest, just above her naked breasts.

Mary frowned for a moment before lying back and closing her eyes. She breathed deeply as her masseuse moved down to rub her feet.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, February 2, 2018**

"I'm sorry, darling, but I just don't see how I can possibly manage it. Between your premiere and the Oscars at the beginning of next month, if I add the BAFTAs to that, I'll only be on set every second weekend. Paul will be incensed," Mary explained.

"Surely he can spare you for one Sunday evening?" Matthew noted, smiling encouragingly at her image on the television screen. "We don't have to go to any of the parties. I just think it would be nice if we could go to the BAFTAs together. It is our home show."

"It would be very nice, yes, but hardly realistic. You know how much time it takes for me to get ready for just the ceremony, let alone anything else. I'd need to go up on the Friday at a minimum, which takes away three entire shooting days, to say nothing for the fact that I'd probably be rather useless on Monday as well," she objected.

"Fine, then. Maybe I'll see if Edith wants to go," he muttered. "Mother will be in Singapore by then with Robert and Cora."

"You could always go by yourself," she pointed out.

"I think it would be far less suspicious if I showed up with your sister, as opposed to alone, don't you?" he objected.

"Since when do you care about what's written about us?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.

"I wish I didn't have to care. That's not the same as not caring," he grumbled.

"Fine. See if Edith can make it, but just don't let her accost anyone to ask for selfies," she replied haughtily.

"She'll be fine. Accosting people is more Sybil's specialty," he countered.

She laughed ruefully.

"Did you choose a venue yet? Mother mentioned that Cora has been rather busy with planning, lately," he asked, changing the subject.

"No, I haven't really put my mind to it," she admitted. "Mum's always sending me new ideas everyday, whether its centrepieces, flowers, even suggestions on where we'll have our photos taken. I'll look at it all next month. I just want to get through this party tomorrow and get back to Paris."

"I can't see how one party could be so important," he shook his head.

"Apparently it is," she shrugged. "There will be a fair number of power brokers there, to hear Aline tell it. We're supposed to impress them, somehow."

"By doing what?" he asked.

"God knows. Through lively conversation? Anyway, I'm actually relieved that we won't be pitching them on the movie or anything like that. Just smile and laugh and pretend that they're clever, I suppose," she guessed.

"Not unlike most of the Society parties you went to years ago," he joked.

She nodded in agreement. "Hopefully with far better company, but I'm not holding my breath."

"Powerbrokers…powerbrokers that none of us have ever heard of," he muttered.

"They still hold the key to the films being financed, made, and distributed," she noted pointedly. "We need to be on their good side."

"You'll be back in Hollywood soon enough, darling. You're just biding your time here, that's all," he reassured her.

She frowned and looked away. "That's a lovely thought, but for now, I'm here, and I need to make sure I have every advantage I can get. If that means I need to smile and listen to some investor tell me all about his yacht, then so be it."

"Just get through it and get back here. I miss you," he told her, pouting melodramatically.

She rolled her eyes. "That's very sweet. Now, I should get to bed. I'll text you sometime tomorrow. I won't be able to talk because of the party, but I'll see you the day after. Goodnight. Love you."

"Love you too," he nodded, hanging up the call. Once the screen went black, he got up and went over to the windows, looking out on the cold night. Resigning himself to a most boring weekend, he returned to the couch and opened his laptop, hoping that he could get a few more pages of his script done before heading to bed.

 **Private Villa, Nice, France, February 3, 2018**

The first thing Mary noticed was the security. There was a gate at the bottom of the long driveway, and a guard had to examine their invitations before letting their car through. Sentries patrolled the grounds between the gatehouse and the large courtyard where the guests were dropped off. The home was immense, even larger than Alex and Anna's house back in Toronto. It had to be at least 10,000 square feet. The surrounding hills made it difficult to access, which was probably by design. She stepped out of her limo and took Paul's arm, heading inside with Aline on his other side.

The air was crisp inside the house, with hints of vanilla, citrus, rose and lavender. They were greeted and quickly ushered through the foyer and into the main ballroom, a large circular stage set up in the centre. Champagne was promptly provided, and she noticed that the staff were dressed in rather vintage uniforms. The men were all wearing black tuxedos, while the women wore maid outfits, complete with short, black skirts, black stockings, and white aprons and hairpieces.

"Stay close to me," Paul whispered in her ear. "I will introduce you to my friends now."

She smiled and nodded, holding on to him as he headed over to a corner of the ballroom. There were numerous stares thrown their way, and she didn't know if they were for Paul, Aline, or her. She liked to think some of them were for her. She had spent enough time getting ready to deserve that, at least. The choker was snug around her neck, matching well with her cream-coloured strapless dress and more noticeable due to her slicked-back hair drawn up in a bun. Aline had raved about her look when she emerged, though Paul hadn't said anything. Ignoring the stares for now, she followed Paul across the room.

"Paul!" he was welcomed warmly by a group of older men, all of them exchanging handshakes, hugs and cheek kisses as Aline and Mary stood by. After numerous pleasantries were exchanged amongst the group, Paul ushered his actresses over and introduced them. Most of the men already knew Aline, and kissed her with polite familiarity. When Paul ushered Mary into the group, they all looked at her with wide smiles.

"This is Lady Mary Crawley," Paul smiled and nodded. "We have finished our first film, to debut in March, and now we are working on the second."

He gently nudged her in the direction of each man as he was introduced. There was Vincent, the head of a giant multinational media corporation, and Max, the CEO of the studio producing _Orlena_. Jean-Paul ran a large investment bank and André a billion-dollar hedge fund. Mary greeted them in French, exchanging smiles and cheek kisses all around. They seemed to be far more interested in her than they were in Aline, and she enjoyed the attention, standing by Paul's side and listening to the various conversations. She was asked about _Paladin_ , which had a significant following in France, and even received condolences on Granny's passing. A few of the men noted how they saw her at the Golden Globes when Matthew won, and there was even the odd congratulations on her engagement.

The drinks continued to come, never was she left with a flute empty of champagne or a glass low on vodka before a fresh one was served. She noticed expensive art on the walls and gorgeous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. It was every bit a lavish party like her family used to host back at Downton Abbey, except that here, she was on her own, Paul being her only chaperone, and he was happy to let her do as she wished.

The opulent setting, playful music from the string quartet, abundant drinks and tasty hors d'oeuvres made her giddy. She didn't know quite what to expect beforehand but this was delightful. She laughed and smiled as stranger after stranger came over to meet her. She didn't keep track of how they knew Paul, or even how they knew of her, but she acknowledged their compliments and smiled benevolently. Her Mum and Aunt Rosamund would have been proud.

"Come. The entertainment is about to start. First, we must drink," Paul whispered, taking her hand.

She laughed and followed him to the bar, where his friends had gathered with several women outfitted in designer dresses and sparkling jewels. The bartenders set out a line of small crystal stem glasses, and placed tiny metal spoons on each rim, upon which rested a sugar cube. Mary watched on with fascination along with the rest of the crowd, wondering what was to come next. Paul brought her forward to get a better look, resting his hand on the bar so that his arm was around her waist.

The bartenders cheered as they brought forth rather ornate decanters of a green liquid. They poured a small amount into each glass with a flourish, moving quickly down the line. Next, they each took up large glass bottles of Evian water, and with careful precision, poured a smaller amount into each glass.

Mary watched as the sugar dissolved into the drink, clouding the green liquid. The bartenders paused before gracefully taking up each spoon and giving the drink a quick stir. The liquid changed to a brighter green, the colour swirling as the sugar and water were mixed together. Mary grinned at the concoction, as if she had watched some potion being prepared before her eyes.

"Absinthe," Paul stated, his voice low and smooth in her ear. "An old French delicacy. The government brought it back years ago, making it legal once again, but we prefer drinking it the old way. It is much stronger, much better."

Mary nodded as a glass was placed before her. She gazed at the green liquid curiously, seeing it appear to glow in the lights from above the bar.

Paul reached past her for his own glass, his absinthe seeming to be a darker shade of green than hers.

"Mine isn't mixed with sugar and water," he explained, taking up his glass. "I prefer it this way."

She nodded and raised her glass to her lips, taking a careful sip. As the smooth drink slid down her throat, she tasted liquorice, sweet and slightly bitter. She had heard legends about absinthe before – how it was supposedly 70% alcohol and had hallucinogenic effects – but this tasted quite nice.

"Good?" Paul asked.

She smiled and nodded before taking a longer sip. "Very good. What about yours?"

"Mine is very strong," he shook his head. "You must have sampled absinthe for years and years before you are able to drink it straight like this."

She arched her eyebrow at him and quickly finished her drink. "I'll have another then."

He smiled and nodded to the bartender.

She leaned on the bar and watched with rapt attention as her second drink was prepared.

"I'm surprised that I've never seen this served at any other party I've been to until now," she noted, smiling when her drink was ready and passed to her.

"American and English parties are all the same – uncultured and flashy," he scoffed. "We are more liberated here in France, especially in the south."

She laughed and shook her head. "You're all secret bohemians, are you?"

He chuckled and nodded. "You see my friends? They are worth billions. You do not see them showing off their cars, their watches, throw their money around as if they have never seen cash before. We are different here. No less powerful. No less rich. But we do not flaunt, or reveal ourselves. We save our indulgences for when we are in private, among friends."

She looked at him carefully as he took another slow sip. She'd been to wrap parties, premieres and awards shows full of celebrities wearing millions in rented diamonds. Paul was right in that this party felt different, the people she met so far seemed different as well. Up until now, she considered this lot inferior to the wealthy and powerful in America. She always assumed that she wanted to get back there as soon as possible, as soon as her exile was lifted. Standing here though, in a private villa overlooking the French Riviera and the Mediterranean Sea, surrounded by billionaires and the leaders of some of the largest entertainment companies in the world, she didn't feel as though she was missing out on anything.

"Come," he smiled, taking her arm. "The entertainment begins."

She took up her glass and followed him towards the stage in the centre of the ballroom, the crowd parting to allow her, Paul and Aline to come through. He stopped them several metres away, giving her a wonderful view. A polite applause rang out as two tall men stepped on to the stage and removed their robes, revealing they were wearing only skin-coloured briefs. Their bodies were firm and taut, covered in muscle. Walking to the centre of the stage, they bowed to the guests before turning to each other. A drum began to beat lightly in the background.

One man squatted and held his arms out in front of him. The second man came around to face him and lifted himself off the stage, balancing himself on his partner's extended arms. He pushed up into a handstand, holding the position while the first kept his arms straight all the while.

The crowd applauded lightly, trying to stay quiet so as not to distract the performers. The two men moved through a series of balancing positions, using their body weight and leverage to take on stunning contortions. At one point, one man was holding himself up entirely on one hand placed on top of the head of his partner. At another, one man did a handstand off the other's raised feet. Mary applauded heartily when they finished and took their bow. Before exiting the stage, the two men turned and kissed each other deeply, to further applause.

"They are beautiful, no?" Aline grinned, speaking to Mary softly as she applauded.

Mary nodded, sipping the last of her second absinthe. "I've never seen anything like that at a party before."

Aline laughed and hugged Mary pleasantly. "That's just the beginning."

Mary's empty glass was taken away and she watched in wonder as more performers came on stage. First was a troupe of pixie-like Chinese dancers, who did a spectacular fan dance with tumbling routines and spins. Next was a pair of topless male swordsmen, who battled each other in a storm of clashing blades and near misses. Once they took their bows and left, a bell chimed, leading to excited murmurs through the crowd.

"Come! Let's go!" Aline gushed excitedly, taking Mary's hand and pulling her towards the hallway.

"Where are we going?" Mary asked in amusement, laughing freely. She glanced back but saw no sign of Paul.

"The bell means the guests are allowed to explore," Aline explained. "The entire house is full of rooms with more performers and secrets to discover. It's what everyone looks forward to at the party every year – the moment we are set free."

Mary arched her eyebrow in confusion, but allowed the tall woman to lead her upstairs and down a darkened hall. They passed other guests moving from one room to another, different music ringing out as doors were opened and closed.

The first room they found seemed to be a library that had been converted into a jazz club, complete with a band and a sultry soul singer. Mary and Aline stayed for a song or two before leaving and going to another room. The second was a parlour and featured a scene straight out of the Moulin Rouge, a cabaret with scantily clad dancers and booming music. Mary and Aline laughed at the sight, admiring how limber the girls were before leaving to allow some drooling men to go in.

Mary lost track of time as she wandered through the house. She was delightfully buzzed, the strong kick of the absinthe setting in. The lights and colours all around her seemed more vibrant and vivid, as though she was seeing things was a razor sharp focus. At one point, somewhere between the stand-up comedian in the gallery and the speed painter in the empty bedroom, she lost Aline and went forward on her own, a thrill of anticipation filling her each time she opened a new door. It was strange how each new room seemed as if it were in a different place. In some rooms, she was the voyeur watching on in fascination, others she felt like she was part of the show. It all served to give a sense of detachment, reinforcing what Paul had said before. This was a private party, removed from the outside world, with its own rules.

Eventually she wandered back downstairs, the ballroom much emptier than before, the stage unused. Seeing no sign of Paul, she made her way down the hall to the back of the house. Though there was a slight chill in the night air, the terrace was open and some of the guests had come out here to have a smoke and admire the gorgeous view down to the sea.

She went over and leaned on the rail, smiling at the lights along the beach in the distance and the dark waves of the water. The moon was peeking out through the clouds above, casting a pale silver light over the area. She closed her eyes and smiled, letting the night wash over her.

"Here you are," Aline said, coming over and standing next to her.

Mary smiled up at her. "It's wonderful out here."

"The view is amazing, yes," Aline agreed, glancing out to the hills before looking at Mary again. "It has been a good party, yes?"

Mary nodded. "Like passing into a secret garden, or something."

She laughed and covered her mouth to compose herself.

"What was your favourite moment?" Aline asked, leaning towards her.

Mary looked up at the night sky and contemplated the question. "I would probably have to say the absinthe. First time I ever tried it. It was quite good."

Aline laughed and nodded.

"What about you? Anything memorable happen for you tonight?" Mary asked lightly.

Aline grinned. "Not quite yet, but it is looking promising."

Mary laughed.

Aline glanced past her and smiled.

"Turn around. Paul and his friends are over there having a smoke," Aline whispered.

Mary glanced to her left. Paul was huddled in a corner, puffing away on a cigar with his friends that Mary had met earlier in the evening. He didn't seem to notice Mary and Aline across the room.

"Do you know why they're all interested in you? Why they were watching you back in the ballroom?" Aline whispered in her ear.

Mary smirked. "I'm the new girl, the shiny new toy."

"Yes, is true, but you're so much more," Aline continued. "They see you as a star, and they want to be able to say they saw you at the beginning, that they were part of your rise."

Mary surveyed the men carefully. They were all laughing and smoking, carefree and at ease. Still, she could almost see the machinations playing out in their minds, each of them with his own scheme, his own designs, his own power play to make even more money, achieve more success. They were all industry heavyweights, and the thought that these powerful men were all focused on her, even if just for one night, was intoxicating.

"What rises can also fall," Mary hissed bitterly. "I've been around men in the business who wanted to raise me up before. None of them were around when I came crashing back down."

"But that is the beauty of it," Aline sang in her ear. "You have been betrayed already before. This is your chance to make it outside of Hollywood, succeed without them."

"Yet I would just be trading one master for another, wouldn't I?" Mary mused. "I must still rely on others to decide my fate."

"Maybe not," Aline replied. "Not if you show them you cannot be controlled so easily. Not if you show them that they need you more than you need them."

Mary turned and looked at Aline curiously. She was standing a breath away now, her dark gaze looking from Mary's eyes down to her lips and back up again.

Mary looked back at Paul and his gang. The director puffed on his cigar for several seconds before letting out a plume of blue grey smoke. As the haze lifted slightly, his eyes found hers. He pursed his lips and watched her closely. She saw curiosity and expectation in his gaze, as well as a question of some sort. She felt like they were back in Toronto in that small audition room, where they first met, where she had taken up his challenge to show him she was different from any other actress he knew.

She turned back to Aline, still feeling Paul's stare upon her. Aline's parted lips drew her attention before she looked up at her eyes.

"He's watching you," Aline whispered, her words sending a shiver up Mary's spine.

Mary nodded. "I want to rehearse something."

Aline frowned slightly. "Rehearse? Rehearse what?"

Mary reached up and seized the back of her neck and pulled her down towards her. Turning her head so that Paul could get a clear view, she kissed Aline firmly, pressing their lips together, holding the taller woman in place for a frozen moment before releasing her.

Aline blinked and gasped, staring into Mary's eyes in surprise.

Mary gave her a teasing smirk. She left the terrace without a word to Aline, or another look at Paul.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, February 3, 2018**

Matthew bolted upright, a jolt hitting him as his ears picked up the sound of Mary's ringtone. He scrambled around, searching for his phone. Locating it finally in its usual place on the nightstand, he stared at the bright screen with bleary eyes, blinking tiredly as he answered the video call.

Mary's smiling face appeared on the screen.

"Darling? It's 3 a.m. Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine, darling. I'm sorry to call you so late. I just got back in," she replied, looking and sounding far more energetic than he felt.

"Ah. Well, how was the party?" he asked, settling back against the pillows and holding his phone on his chest so he could see her face.

"It was quite fun," she nodded. "Quite unlike any party I've ever been to. I met some rather interesting characters, to be sure."

"The glitterati of French cinema," he mumbled, giving her a wry smile.

She laughed and nodded. "Matthew, I wanted to apologize for yesterday, or two days ago now, technically."

He frowned and rubbed his face, trying to remember what happened back then. "Huh? For what?"

She smiled patiently. "For saying that I wouldn't go with you to the BAFTAs and making light of the whole thing, as if it wasn't important. I'm sorry for being so flippant about it. I know what an honour it is for you, and you were right. It would be wonderful and special for us to go back home for the awards show."

He nodded and yawned. "That's all right. You're busy. I understand."

"Yes, you are more understanding than I deserve," she smirked, looking down for a moment.

He hummed contentedly. "I'm sure Edith and I will have a good time, so it's all sorted."

She smiled. "Edith isn't going. You're my man and it's my place to be at your side, win or lose."

His eyes widened as he tried to rouse himself fully. "What?"

She nodded. "I'm going with you. We'll fly up on Saturday morning and come back late Sunday."

He shook his head in confusion. "But I thought that you were busy filming and that you couldn't spare so many weekends?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I did say that, and I was quite mad, obviously. The truth is that we can never take these moments for granted. I know you don't put very much weight in things like awards and box office numbers, but this is such an exciting time in your career, and you should enjoy it as much as you can. Who knows what's coming? So many times you came to shows for me, even when you couldn't sit with me or enjoy it fully. I want to be there with you. I never should have tried to pick and choose what show to go to over another. You're going to be my husband and I don't want to miss a single moment. So, if the invitation still stands, then yes, Mr. Crawley, I would be honoured to be your date for the BAFTAs."

He laughed and sat up, fully awake now. "Lady Mary Crawley, the honour is all mine."

She grinned and nodded. "Thank you. Thank you for putting up with me. I hate that I sometimes forget just how steadfast you've been. I want to support you. You deserve at least that."

His face was lit up now. "What about Paul? Won't he be annoyed at losing his star for so many weekends?"

She smirked. "He'll just have to make do until I return. I'm not his. I'm yours."

"God, I wish you were here right now," he rasped, his eyes staring at her hungrily.

"I know. I'm going straight to the set once we land tomorrow, but I hope you haven't made any plans for tomorrow night because you are going to be quite occupied from the moment I get back," she promised, arching her eyebrow at him teasingly.

"I can't wait," he nodded eagerly.

She laughed. "Well, maybe I can give you something to tide you over."

He blinked. "Really? That would be great."

She shook her head in wonder. Other men would still be angry with her over how selfish she'd been acting lately, but not him.

"Lie back and make yourself comfortable, darling," she urged him.

He settled back down against the pillows, propping up his phone on her side of the bed.

She placed her tablet at the foot of her bed and sat up so he could get a full view.

"Now, here's some practice for you. You're going to get to play the director," she stated sultrily. "Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."

He let out a choked breath as he watched her remove her robe, revealing she was wearing nothing underneath.

"Ready?" she asked mischievously.

He nodded eagerly, his imagination running rampant. "Action."

 **Private Villa, Nice, France, February 3, 2018**

"Your Lady Mary Crawley is quite the woman."

Paul nodded. "She is. You see what I was talking about?"

"Indeed. She is a prize."

"We still have months left before we finish this movie. She is committed to helping to promote _The Muse_ also. I can see her staying with us at least through summer," Paul nodded.

"Will she commit to a third movie?"

Paul smiled. "I will see that she does."


	4. Chapter 4

**Previously:**

 **Private Villa, Nice, France, February 3, 2018**

"Your Lady Mary Crawley is quite the woman."

Paul nodded. "She is. You see what I was talking about?"

"Indeed. She is a prize."

"We still have months left before we finish this movie. She is committed to helping to promote _The Muse_ also. I can see her staying with us at least through summer," Paul nodded.

"Will she commit to a third movie?"

Paul smiled. "I will see that she does."

 **Chapter 4:**

 **Empire Cinema, Leicester Square, London, England, February 8, 2018**

It was difficult for Mary to believe that she had been at this very cinema just under a year ago, ready to walk the red carpet with Matthew, to take their bows at the premiere of their movie, _Shattered_. The world knew them only as friends and co-stars back then, their relationship still kept secret by her choice and his acquiescence. What was supposed to be their triumphant return to London ended in disaster, with her father's scandal going public just before she was about to enter the theatre, and soon she was whisked away by her Aunt Rosamund to a hotel to escape the paparazzi. That night should have been the launching point for the next phase of her career, transitioning from a successful television show to films. Hollywood movie roles were waiting for her. She and Matthew would have settled in a big city in North America – Los Angeles, New York, Toronto – and spent the next years going from project to project, from strength to strength.

Instead, it all came crashing down for her and she was still struggling to get back.

Looking out at the huge crowds gathered for the _Black Panther_ premiere tonight, she felt as though she was having some sort of out-of-body experience. Marvel and Disney spared no expense for their big budget debuts, and the scale and fanfare for this one made the _Shattered_ premiere last year seem like going to see a high school play. The streets and surrounding area had been shutdown to traffic to control the masses of fans, many who were dressed in homemade costumes. There were easily four or five times the media and photographers stationed along the red carpet, and towering billboards for the movie were all around them. It reminded her of showing up for the Emmys or Golden Globes, except all of this was for just one film.

Matthew had a small role in the movie. There was no massive cardboard cut-out of his character anywhere to be seen, and his name wasn't on the marquee. Still, just being part of a huge film like this, and the behemoth Marvel Cinematic Universe as a whole, was a coup for him. Not only was it a generous help to his bank account and what he could command in future earnings, but it was an astute change of pace to his previous work. He was still feeling his way in his career, and the roles that he had done so far were distinct enough that no one could say he fit one particular type of character. Of course, he didn't evaluate such things in much detail. The chance came up to be in a Marvel film and he said yes because it sounded cool and so that he could keep working. Now here he was, standing before the wall of flashing cameras, posing in a bespoke Armani suit and smiling placidly as if this was a normal evening for him.

She felt detached from the entire scene, so unused to attending a premiere for a movie she wasn't a part of. They had walked the red carpet together at first, but soon the Marvel staff ushered Matthew over to sign autographs for the rabid fans, and now he was posing for photos in front of the huge movie posters. They assured her that she would be called in soon after, but that only added to her isolation. She was the pretty girlfriend kept in the corner until it was time to go to his side and smile.

"Lady Mary!" a staff member called, waving her over.

She dutifully came to stand next to Matthew, his warm smile comforting her a bit as his arm went around her waist. Pose and smile, look into his eyes, place your hand on his lapel to show off the engagement ring, now look back to the cameras, turn this way, turn that way, smile, tilt your head as he gives you a kiss on the cheek. All that was missing were the marionette strings.

They moved on, walking a few more metres before Matthew was pulled away to take a larger group shot with Chadwick Boseman, Lupita Nyong'o, Michael B. Jordan and other cast members. She stood by and waited some more, resisting the urge to take out her phone. Even though no one was paying attention to her, all it took was one photo of her looking bored, or rolling her eyes impatiently, and the gossip sites would have a field day.

That is, if anyone overseas even cared what she did anymore.

As she looked on, she wished Anna was here, if only for someone to talk to. Her assistant wasn't needed since Mary was merely a guest at this event. It was all quite a whirlwind. They were flying back to Paris tomorrow, not even spending enough time in London for her to see Edith or anyone else. Her mind wasn't quite up to socializing anyway, her thoughts on the draining filming schedule that awaited her when she got back to France.

It was business as usual after her weekend trip to the French Riviera with Paul. Aline would be arriving in Paris next week, though her scenes weren't coming up until March. The filming locations in Nice had been decided on, and Paul didn't mention the eccentric party with studio executives and investors that they had attended. That usually meant he was pleased. If he was disappointed in her somehow, he would have said something. Going right back to set and working 16-hour days meant whatever he wanted out of the weekend had been accomplished and she'd done her job.

In France she was still considered a serious actress. The promotion schedule for _The Muse_ , the film she completed last year with Paul, was now out. She had a handful of interviews with European media coming up and a small feature for _Instyle UK_ – the digital edition, as there was no print version anymore. It would play well with the hundreds of thousands of followers she still had online, but it would be drowned in the sea of celebrity fashion shoots that came out every day, lost in the mix of more famous actresses that graced the covers of actual magazines like _Cosmo_ and _Vogue_ and had millions watching their every move.

Compared to what she'd done in the past for her television show, _Paladin_ , the campaign for _The Muse_ was decidedly smaller. The film had no North American distribution yet with the Paris premiere coming up next month. It was as though she was in two worlds now – in Paris she was a lead actress about to release her next movie. Here in London at the bow of one of the biggest movies of the year, she was just Matthew Crawley's fiancée.

"Lady Mary! Lady Mary! This way please! To your right! To your right!"

She put her smile back on and turned to face the cameras. Placing her hand on her hip, she raised her chin slightly and posed, ignoring the blinding glare of the flashes and turning her head again after a few seconds. 'Lady Mary Crawley attends _Black Panther_ premiere in London' would be the caption for all of these shots, and that was something, but it wouldn't lead to any of the big studios calling up her Aunt Rosamund and bringing her back in for a meeting. She was scenery now. Matthew was the star.

"Ready to go in?" Matthew asked, coming over and taking her hand.

She smiled at him and nodded. He deserved her support, not her worries. "Ready."

He smiled at her adoringly and pulled her away from the cameras towards the theatre.

She followed him in, the smile never leaving her face.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, February 12, 2014**

"James! James! Non, non, non," Paul scoffed, frowning at the young actor and throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Sorry," Jimmy mumbled, actually appearing contrite for once.

Mary looked on. When Paul got into one of his moods, no one dared speak until they knew for sure it was over.

"James, the audience must believe that Orlena desires you, yes? They must see you together on the screen and know that you are a true couple. It cannot be two good-looking people up there and that is it, no. _Marie_ is up here. You are down here," Paul growled, moving his hand up and down to make his point.

"Right, okay," Jimmy nodded.

"Seduce her, romance her, make us believe that you are winning her over. The scene is there for you to make a big impression on her and on us. _Marie_ has set it all up for you. She is giving you the chance. Take it!" Paul demanded, waving his hand.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Jimmy replied, glancing over at Mary apologetically.

Mary tried to suppress her smirk. It was rather funny to see Jimmy taken down a notch, especially over his performance as her lover. Paul didn't dress him down very often, but it was true that the chemistry wasn't all the way there for them yet. It was decent – they were two attractive people acting out a scene where the beginnings of their affair were taking root, but there weren't nearly the amount of sparks and tension that such a scene demanded, and Paul knew it.

"Again!" the director called, going back to his chair.

"Fuck, come on," Jimmy admonished himself, frowning as he went back to his mark.

"Jimmy," she whispered, coming over to him. "Relax. You can do this."

He looked up at her sheepishly and nodded. "I know, I know. Sorry, Mary. I thought I had it."

"Remember how we rehearsed it. I'm shy and scared, a bit in disbelief that I could have a strapping young man like you interested in me. You have to let me know that you really want me," she suggested.

"Convince you. Convince the audience. Right," he agreed.

She gave him a playful smile. "Jimmy, what does Théo want from Orlena?"

"He wants a date," he answered immediately.

She nodded. "Yes, but why?"

"Because he likes her. He thinks she's interesting. She's classier than the girls he's used to going out with. He thinks that she's above all the…" he listed.

"Jimmy," she interrupted him as the lighting crew went through their checks. "He wants to fuck her."

He grunted in surprise. "What?"

She laughed quietly, keeping her voice down. "You want to fuck me. I'm repressed, quiet, inexperienced. The only man I ever slept with before was my husband and he was boring and unimaginative. I'm this classy, sophisticated woman who is way above you, but not when it comes to sex. In the bedroom, you're the experienced one and I'm the naïve little girl. You know there's a depraved little slut inside me and you're just the man to bring it out of me. You're going to make me scream your name and go wild for you."

"Shit, Mary," he exclaimed in disbelief, taking a harsh breath.

She nodded mischievously. "None of that happens unless you can get me to agree to go on a date with you. It starts in this scene with coffee. Get me to have coffee with you and I'll be on my knees taking you in my mouth. Get me to have coffee with you and I'll be spreading my legs and begging you for it. Get me to have coffee with you and you'll be painting my face and taking a photo of me licking it all off my fingers. It all starts with coffee."

He swallowed and nodded, staring at her wide-eyed.

"Close your mouth, Jimmy," she winked.

"Lumière!" Paul called to begin the scene.

Jimmy composed himself quickly. He quirked his eyebrow at Mary playfully, his eyes lighting up for the first time all day.

She nodded and resumed her disinterested expression.

"Action!"

* * *

"This look here. That is very good," Paul stated, pointing at the screen. "Do that again in tomorrow's scene. It is a link we can use for Orlena's time with Théo."

Mary nodded. "Something unique to their relationship. She looks at him like that, and nobody else."

"Exact. Another layer of their connection that the audience can then contrast with how she is with Ludivine and Florian later on," he nodded.

"I like it," she smiled, taking a sip of her water and sitting back on the couch in his office.

"Bon. Remember, we go long tomorrow," he noted, turning away from the television on the wall to the computer on his desk.

"Just like every other day this week," she sighed.

"The schedule would be easier if you were actually here more," he replied.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I am aware."

He gave her a knowing look before going back to his computer. "There is someone that I want you to meet."

"All right," she answered.

"He is one of the investors from the party in Nice. Jean-Paul. He is going to be in Los Angeles for the Oscars. I will have him contact you. He wants to invest and we are close to a deal. If you can impress him, give him confidence that we have a good project, he will sign," he explained.

"I thought that you already had financing for this film," she asked.

"I do," he nodded. "This is for the next one."

She blinked in surprise. "I wasn't aware you were offering me a role in your next movie."

He grunted and looked over at her wryly. "I have not yet. But if you help me get my financing, I cannot deny you, can I?"

She smiled and nodded. "And what if I don't want to be in your next movie?"

He laughed. "You will when you see the script."

She laughed along with him. "I want to be the lead, and I want a raise, if I decide to do it."

He waved his hand. "Help me get my money, and all is possible."

She arched her eyebrow and took a sip of water, watching him closely as he went back to his computer and typed away. A mix of relief and excitement filled her. Big time actresses were offered roles without having to audition. Big time actresses went into pitch meetings to close deals, charming men to spend millions on their movies. Big time actresses had directors clamouring to work with them. Her confidence soared at Paul's faith in her. It was France, not Hollywood, but it was work, and that was worth something.

 **Hoops Factory, Aubevilliers, Paris, France, February 14, 2018**

"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart."

Alex shook his head and smiled ruefully as Matthew passed him the ball and came up to guard him. Alex held the ball behind his back, pausing to survey the distance between them and the basket.

"Haha. I would be having a lovely dinner with my beautiful wife right now if it wasn't for your fiancée and her demanding work schedule," Alex retorted, beginning a slow dribble and moving to his right.

"And I would be having a wonderful meal with my lovely fiancée if your wife had just blocked off the evening for her," Matthew noted, shuffling his feet and moving with him, blocking his way to the basket.

"Right," Alex grumbled. "Anna's the assistant. Mary's the actress. We both know who sets the schedule."

"That's right. It's Paul," Matthew muttered, taking a swipe at the ball and missing.

"The man clearly is not a romantic," Alex commented, dribbling the ball between his legs and moving back to his left.

Matthew grunted and scrambled to catch up as Alex moved closer to the basket, still dribbling the ball. "No, I think he's more interested in the romance he's portraying in his film, and he couldn't care less about what occurs out here in the real world."

"He wouldn't be the first director to prefer his world to ours," Alex remarked, turning his back to Matthew and backing him towards the basket.

"No, a bunch of control freaks, the lot of them," Matthew agreed, leaning against Alex's back and waving his arms to prevent his view of the basket. "They're not much different from lawyers, that way."

"Except we don't just give out orders to others and watch. We get things done," Alex replied. He pushed back against Matthew and turned to his left. When Matthew moved to cover that side, Alex spun around to his right and jumped. Matthew recovered and leapt up to block the shot, but Alex was already floating high in the air. He released the ball just over Matthew's outstretched fingers and landed on the court, watching as the ball arched through the air and dropped through the basket with a satisfying swish of the net.

"That's game," Alex declared.

"Fuck," Matthew whinged, bumping fists with Alex and turning to go fetch the ball. "Best of 9."

"No," Alex answered. "We've still got to shower, change and drive back down. I've spent most of the evening with you and I would like to see my wife at least a little bit before dawn."

"Fine," Matthew relented, putting the basketball back on a nearby rack and following Alex to the change room. "It's almost midnight anyway."

By the time they finished showering and changing out of their gym clothes, the facility was just about to close. They wandered out into the dark evening and got into Alex's rented Range Rover for the half hour drive back to downtown.

"I read your treatment last night," Alex advised. "The idea's actually not bad."

"That's high praise coming from you," Matthew smiled. "I should have it in final form in time for our trip to Los Angeles. There's a few people I want to show it to when I'm there."

"What does Mary think about it?" Alex asked.

"I haven't really talked to her about it. She's always so busy," Matthew shrugged. "I explained the idea to her and she was mildly interested, but it didn't dazzle her, or anything. She said she would get around to reading it eventually, but she hasn't yet."

Alex nodded. "You still see it as a project for the two of you, though?"

"Ideally, yes," Matthew confirmed.

"Well, I'll tell you right now that if you could get someone bigger attached to it, that would make it easier for me to get you financing. Just saying. You and Mary I can sell to my clients, but you and someone more well-known pretty much sells itself, especially given the timing and budget you're proposing" Alex stated.

Matthew nodded. "I'm pretty confident Mary will do it. We could shoot it in 30 days or so, and we could film it anywhere."

"Figure it out. I can float the idea around and see what people think, but it'd be nice to have a relatively ready package to present," Alex replied.

"She'll do it. Why wouldn't she?" Matthew joked.

"Exactly," Alex agreed, smirking at his best friend. "No reason at all."

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, February 14, 2018**

Anna kissed Alex's lips softly, swiping her tongue across his mouth playfully before moving to his jaw and neck.

"Thank you for the flowers," she whispered, sliding down to his chest.

"Thank you for my new phone," she continued, grinding her hips against his before kissing his firm stomach.

"Thank you for the beautiful earrings," she purred, kissing his thigh, her hand taking hold of him and stroking him slowly.

"You're welcome," he choked out, breathing heavily, the feel of her naked body against his making him swell in her hand.

"My gift seems so inadequate by comparison," she drawled sultrily. "How will I ever make it up to you?"

He groaned loudly when she leaned over and kissed his length.

"I have an idea. Would you like to hear it?" she asked, smiling up at his wide eyes and teasing him with her tongue.

"Yeah," he gasped, nodding his head eagerly.

She giggled, kissing him again. A blush coloured her cheeks. It wasn't often that she was the one directing their lovemaking. She much preferred when he was in control. However, when she came home well after midnight from the set to an apartment full of lit candles, gorgeous roses and lilies, and a warm bubble bath waiting for her, she decided that she would continue from what she did last Valentine's Day and play the little minx for him. It was guaranteed that his presents for her would always be better. She bought him a very lovely tie, which would normally be a wonderful present if not for the fact that he bought her a new smartphone and a pair of gorgeous diamond and ruby earrings. The earrings and her rings were the only thing she had on right now.

"Well, first I'm going to give you some extra special attention," she smiled, licking him to make sure he got the hint. "After, when you're good and ready, I'm going to get on my hands and knees and beg you to fuck me and knock me up."

"Anna!" he blurted out, his hips bucking suddenly. "Fuck."

She laughed wickedly and took him into her mouth. Her lips and tongue gave him a mere hint of what was in store for him before she lifted off. "You love hearing me beg you, don't you, babes? You love it when you're fucking me so good and I beg you to put your baby in me?"

"Love, we don't have to talk about that. It's not the reason why…argh," he muttered, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breaths.

"Shh, it's all right," she assured him, stroking him faster. "I love you, Alex. I love you so much. You've been so good to me, so kind, and patient, and understanding. I know I've been so stupid at times over the past year, but I know now that I can face anything as long as I'm with you. Maybe it'll happen tonight, or maybe not. But just thinking about you getting me pregnant makes me so hot."

He nodded. "Fuck, that feels so good, love. I love it when you're like this."

"Mmm, you bring it out of me," she cooed. "You're so big in my hand. In my mouth."

"Fuck!" he grunted as she took him in. He kept his eyes open with great difficulty, wanting to watch her. His fingers flexed with the urge to run through her long blonde hair, or travel the planes of her smooth back to her tight bottom, now raised behind her as she tasted him over and over. Instead, he left his arms out to his sides, grabbing hold of the bedsheet and letting the sight before him and the sounds from her throat drive him delirious with need.

She released him just as his hips began to move erratically. Kissing her way up his body, she hummed contentedly when he wrapped his arms around her.

"Fuck me, babes," she whispered between kisses. "Fuck your wife. I want it so bad. Fucking give it to me hard."

He reluctantly let her go and she crawled away from him, taking hold of the headboard and luring him to her with a teasing smile and a wave of her ass. He came up behind her, reaching up and covering her hands with his. She moaned and grinded back against him, his tall, strong frame looming over her back giving her that delicious thrill of feeling so small and helpless beneath him.

"Alex!" she shouted as he eased inside, a slow and steady rhythm driving him deep. She arched her back to take him better, and turned her head to kiss him, his warm breath caressing her face.

"You're so big. Fuck, you feel so good!" she breathed, yelping as he moved his hand underneath her and played with her breast.

They found a fast rhythm, her hips fighting against his until his powerful thrusts won her obedience. She used her voice instead, her desperate and filthy words spurring both of them on. She spent first, crying out and squeezing him over and over. He eased up enough to let her calm down, then resumed as fierce and frantic as before.

"Fuck me! Fuck me, Alex! Give it to me! I want it! I want your baby!" her breath hot against cheek, her words lighting up his imagination like kindling.

"Anna!" he snarled, clutching her tight and pounding into her as hard as he could before unloading.

She let go of the headboard and fell down to the pillows. He held on to her, spooning behind her as warmth washed through both of them.

"So good," she whispered, turning her head and kissing him. "Happy Valentine's Day, babes."

He chuckled and kissed her back.

 **Apartment of Lady Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, February 14, 2018**

Mary blinked several times, the large red digital numbers on the nightstand clock finally coming into focus. 4 a.m. She reached out her hand lazily and found Matthew's side of the bed empty. Frowning, she lifted her head off the pillow, confused and annoyed by his disappearance.

Debating whether to go and look for him, she finally gave in and got out of bed, picking up her robe off the floor from where he had tossed it in his haste to get her into bed. Her legs ached, partly from the long day of shooting she finished last night, and mostly from the wonderful sex they had when she got home. Running her hand through her wild hair, she came out into the living room and yawned, shuffling to the sofa where Matthew was sitting shirtless, typing away on his laptop.

"Darling, I'm sorry for waking you," he said warmly, looking up at her.

"Hmph, you can make it up to me by coming back to bed. What are you doing? It's so early, or late, or whatever," she mumbled, curling up next to him on the sofa.

"I got a jolt of inspiration about a scene so I just wanted to write a few notes down before I forgot," he explained.

She blinked at the bright screen before giving up and burrowing her head into his shoulder. "Is that what we were doing? Giving you inspiration?"

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "You were amazing, yes, but that wasn't what stirred me awake now. Although, I wouldn't be against saying it was, if you'll do it again."

"Come back to bed and convince me. I just might," she purred, eyes closed, her hand running up and down his chest. "God, I love riding you. It feels glorious."

He smiled and shook his head. Mary was never more unfiltered than when she was drunk, or drowsy from sleep. She forgot three quarters of the things she said at moments like these, which made them all the more comical.

"What's this scene about, anyway?" she asked.

"It's one of the earlier scenes," he replied. "You have a whole conversation with your mother. I was having trouble keeping it on point and not making it too sappy, and I got the idea of having you doing yoga together. The extra distraction of having to move around will keep the talk on message without making it seem too contrived."

"Yoga with Mum? Yes, that sounds like genius," she teased.

"Would you rather be getting manicures? That seems rather clichéd," he retorted.

"I don't know. It depends on the character," she suggested.

"The character most certainly would not go and get a manicure with her mum," he noted. "You would understand that if you had read the script."

"Yes, well it's on my list, together with the dozens of other things I haven't gotten to," She muttered.

"Try and read it before we go to Los Angeles next month, please. Alex thinks he can line up funding for us if I can confirm that you're involved," he requested.

"Fine. Though I won't promise to commit without going over it thoroughly," she warned. "I am in demand, you know. Paul wants me for his next film."

"Already?" he questioned, frowning at her resting face. "You've barely started on this one."

"I'm just that good," she answered smugly. "It would fill a nice gap in my schedule, potentially. With _The Muse_ coming out next month and _Orlena_ probably not until late summer, I won't have any offers earlier than the Fall at least, so I could film with Paul from June to September. Anyway, it's all just an idea for now. I haven't read his script either."

"I see," he mumbled.

"Mmm," she sighed, falling silent as she relaxed against him.

He spent another fifteen minutes typing up the last of his notes before closing his laptop and carrying her back to bed. She fumbled with the tie of her robe, so he removed it for her, rolling his eyes as she settled under the duvet naked. He spooned in behind her, aroused, but knowing full well she was as likely to fall asleep on him as she was to respond to any of his advances at the moment. He slipped his foot between hers and pulled her close. Her hand reached down and covered his, her slowed breathing telling him it was time to sleep. The revelation that she might be doing yet another movie with Paul Chaput lingered in his mind for a while until he was able to doze off.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, February 17, 2018**

"Again!" Paul snarled, muttering a string of curses in French. He stomped back to his chair, firing off instructions to Edna, who stood patiently by with her tablet, not saying a word.

"Shit," Mary scoffed, walking off-set so she could grab her water bottle from Anna.

"You've got about an hour," Anna reminded her. "Any more than that is pushing it."

"I know," Mary replied tightly, shaking her head. "At the rate we're going, I'll be lucky to make it to London by tomorrow night, let alone tonight. Go and call Matthew and let him know what's going on, please. Have the car get him first and collect me here afterwards. We can go to the airport straight away after. Are you all right to get back home?"

"Don't worry about me. Alex will come get me, or I'll just take a cab. Let's just get you out on schedule," Anna reassured her.

"Thank you," Mary smiled, handing her back the water bottle.

Anna nodded and left to go call Matthew.

" _Marie_."

Mary looked up and smiled as Aline came over. They exchanged cheek kisses and the taller woman rubbed her arm gently.

"It's a bit of a disaster tonight, isn't it?" Mary asked, rolling her eyes. "He's in one of his moods."

Aline laughed and nodded. "I've seen worse, but this is bad, yes. You are wonderful, but the others are not doing what he wants."

"I know. I'm trying to encourage them, but they're not used to working with him. I think all the yelling is freaking them out. They can't focus," Mary sighed.

The scene was actually not too difficult. Mary's character was meeting with her late husband's friend to deal with some final Estate business. The scene was supposed to shift to a dream sequence in Orlena's mind where the friend and some family members were interrogating her about her affair with Jimmy's character, Théo. The string of rapid-fire questions was where it was all coming apart, and Paul had cut the scene short eight times now, not pleased with the take at different points.

"Try it as less confrontational, maybe. It could be they are nervous about your responses to the questions," Aline suggested.

Mary arched her eyebrow in thought. "I am supposed to be standing up for myself though, showing that this version of Orlena is stronger than before."

Aline nodded. "Yes, but you are also damaged still from the death of your husband. Maybe try and breakdown a little, appear smaller, weak. It will shock the others and they won't be so on edge."

"I'll see," Mary replied, leaving her and going back on-set to take her mark.

They ran the scene again, moving through the opening easily and transitioning into the interrogation.

"Do you love him? Your Théo?"

"I barely know him," Mary answered quietly in French.

"Then why? Why do you go to him? Why do you let him do all of these things to you? Why do you behave the way you do for him?"

She looked down at her lap, rather than glare back at the actress asking the question. When she recited her line, her voice wavered and broke. "It's none of your business. It's lust, and the need for excitement, and something in him that I...want."

Paul frowned at Mary's different delivery, but let the scene run.

"He fills my mind, the way he touches me, the way he shows me things I've never done before. I don't want to be without him…" she whispered, closing her eyes briefly before looking up again cautiously.

The other actors fired their lines off with perfect cadence. Mary cringed with each harsh accusation, each warning and threat. As the last line hovered in the air, she cringed and looked away, as though the words had physically left bruises.

"Cut!" Paul called from the side.

She opened her eyes and looked over at him, a shudder going through her, wondering what his reaction would be.

"Bon," he nodded, meeting her eyes. "One more time just like that."

He looked away and said something to Edna.

Mary glanced over at Aline and shared a happy smile with her.

 **71** **st** **British Academy Film Awards, Royal Opera House, London, England, February 18, 2018**

 _'Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Winner of the BAFTA for Best Supporting Actor, Matthew Crawley for Shattered!'_

"I've got to go," Matthew said apologetically, smiling at Mary as the staff was waving him on towards the microphone for his press conference.

"Of course you do," Mary smiled, smoothing her hands over the shoulders of his suit.

"My mind is all over the place at the moment. I hope I can count on you not to laugh if I give a stupid answer up there," he shrugged.

"You can always count on me," she nodded.

He grinned and kissed her quickly before turning and stepping out to the applause of the gathered media, his freshly won BAFTA award in his left hand.

"Thank you, thank you," he said, smiling as he reached the microphone and adjusted it to his taller height.

 _'Congratulations, Matthew,'_ the moderator gushed. _'Your first win, and this sort of fairytale just keeps going for you, doesn't it?'_

"Well, I don't know if it's much of a fairytale, not one that many children would enjoy reading, anyway," he answered deprecatingly.

The media laughed.

Mary smiled.

 _'Yes, perhaps not a classic, but you've been scooping every award in sight, it seems. This must be quite the experience for you, being that it's your first time nominated and all.'_

He nodded. "Yes, I can't really believe it's happening. I was lucky enough to be part of a great movie, with a wonderful director, and an amazing cast and crew. To be singled out is a bit strange to me, really, but I'm grateful, and hopefully it is a bit of recognition for the entire film and everyone involved."

 _'Okay, on to questions, now. Yes, at the back, there.'_

Mary watched as Matthew fielded questions from the gathered entertainment press. The backstage Winners Room was a rite that followed every awards show. The bashful winner, the media heaping on their praise, the photographers waiting to snap away at the victor posing with his trophy – it all was part of the evening. She understood how frazzled Matthew was. When you were out there, your thoughts were running at lightspeed and even basic queries made no sense at all. He still charmed them though, smiling and nodding, scratching the back of his head and shrugging his shoulders. The BAFTAs had taken on such an international flavour in recent years that whenever a homegrown Brit won one of the major awards, the response was all the more intense. There was genuine surprise here when Matthew won the Golden Globe, mild interest when he took home the SAG award, but now that he added the BAFTA, the story in the papers tomorrow would be how he was poised for the Oscar next month.

Her fiancé, an Oscar winner. She couldn't even begin to process that possibility. She barely could get her head around that he had already won what he had so far.

' _You've got Black Panther out now, and the Martin Scorsese film, The Irishman, and another movie on the way. What's next for you, Matthew?'_

"I don't quite know, actually," he replied. "Right now, we're in Paris. Mary's got two films coming out this year. I'm really looking forward to that. I know they'll be brilliant. Erm…I'm always grateful for the scripts that get sent my way, so I'll go over it all with Mary and my agent and figure out what my next move will be. For now, I'm really enjoying tonight. It used to be that I had to struggle just to find work, so it's quite a luxury to have some choice in the matter now."

She looked down at the floor and shook her head. Even in the midst of his triumph, he went out of his way to mention her. It was kind of him, but no one cared what she was up to. Everyone wanted a piece of him.

The British film community was small and tight knit. They had already run into Natalie, Gwendoline Christie, Sophie Turner, Eddie Redmayne and a host of their other friends and acquaintances tonight. Matthew was one of those people that everyone wanted to see do well. He was nice, for one, hard working and humble, as well, and treated everyone with respect, regardless of their status in the industry. He had come up through the ranks and not let his leap to stardom change who he was, and everyone loved that about him. At the parties tonight, on their home soil, he would be treated like a King.

"I survived," he sighed in relief as he rejoined her offstage. "I didn't sound too ridiculous, I hope?"

She arched her eyebrow and smiled at him playfully. "No more than usual."

He laughed and kissed her cheek. Taking her hand, he led her away to the next stop to pick up their gift bags.

* * *

"Mary."

Mary turned around and gave him a cold glare. "Tony. I was thinking you would have the good sense to stay away from me tonight. I clearly have overestimated you again."

"Can't we at least be civil to each other?" Tony asked, giving her a pleading look. "We were so close once. There's no reason why we can't…"

"I'm with Matthew now," she interrupted him. "And even if I wasn't, we were never as close as you imagined, and after your betrayal, just talking to you is requiring all of my patience and restraint. Leave me alone, Tony. There's nothing to be said between us."

"So that's it? You send Matthew to do the deed and now you're lost to me," he whinged.

"Understand well, you never had me to lose!" she snarled. "You ruined our friendship when you decided to ally yourself with Mabel against me, the moment you threw away the bond between our families in your twisted scheme to seduce me. We would have stayed friends, Tony. I never would have felt for you what you hoped I would, but we would have been friends. You decided that wasn't enough for you, and this is what you're left with."

"I suppose it's easy to disregard my affection for you when you have the new golden boy of British cinema in your thrall," he fired back. "I never knew what you saw in him to begin with, Mary, and I certainly thought you were mad to take up with him again. But I see now that you were a step ahead of all of us, as usual. Mabel ruined your career, but you've still found your way into all of these events through Matthew."

Her eyes narrowed, her lips pursing into a thin line as rage bubbled inside of her.

"Yes, that's it, Tony. Rather than accept Henry's offer when he was already an acclaimed star, I decided to go back to Matthew, because I could have predicted all of this happening. I didn't think it was possible for you to be even more ridiculous, but here you are," she smiled furiously.

"The fact remains that you'd have to buy a ticket to get in here if not for him," he shot back.

"Well, lucky me that I am with him, then," she replied smoothly. "To celebrate, we're going to record a video of us in bed tonight. I got the idea from Mabel."

His lip curled into a snarl.

"Good night, Tony, and good riddance," she growled, stepping past him and not looking back.

* * *

Behind the glamour of awards shows, there were always more basic realities that everyone had to deal with. Matthew liked to think of them as the universe's way of reminding anyone who thought they were high and mighty simply because they were in the entertainment business that they weren't nearly as all-powerful as they thought, that they had to contend with the same quandaries that normal people dealt with.

Such as right now, when everyone had to stand in line waiting for their cars.

He wasn't too bothered by it. With Mary at his side, he took the time to catch up with friends of theirs in the business that they never got to see. They all mainly found him, hugging him, laughing and smiling, taking selfies and checking to see which parties he was going to.

"We're heading to the airport shortly after we make a stop at Grosvenor House," he advised. "Mary's due on set tomorrow, so we have to get back."

"Oh, that's a shame," Gwen noted. "I thought you'd at least be at the Weinstein party as well. All right, I'll see you in a bit then. Congratulations again!"

He kissed her and she left to go back to her group as the line moved along.

Mary watched her leave. Taking out her phone, she glanced at the screen to check the time, a frown furrowing her brow for a moment. She fidgeted as she waited, her fingers playing with her engagement ring.

"You know what? Darling, you should stay and enjoy yourself. I'll head back on my own and you can come back tomorrow whenever you want," she declared.

"What?" he frowned, looking at her strangely. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm going with you."

"It's all right. I'll fly back as planned, but this is your night. Stay and enjoy it," she smiled.

"I won't enjoy myself at all without you here," he replied.

She sighed and caressed his cheek. "That's very sweet, but I'm honestly just going to go straight to bed once I get back. I'm absolutely knackered and I'd be useless to you, whether here or back in Paris. I can see how much you want to go out, and you should, and everyone will be looking for you."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Well, I'll at least go with you to the airport and see you on to the plane."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly. I'll be fine. They've taken more than enough pictures of us together so you needn't worry about being seen alone at all the parties. Have a great time, come back tomorrow and I promise that we will celebrate properly once I get back from set."

"I don't need to go to the parties, darling," he grumbled.

"Yes, you do," she nudged him patiently. "You need to take it all in, every moment, every perk that comes with being a BAFTA winner. Besides, you may not see some of your friends for months. Now's your chance to celebrate together."

"It would be fun, I suppose," he admitted. They approached the head of the line, their limo a few cars away.

"Of course it will be," she nodded. "Go on and have fun. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll even wear that special blue outfit that you like so much."

He quirked his eyebrow. "The one with the thong?"

She smirked and whispered in his ear. "How about I don't wear any panties at all?"

He swallowed and nodded. "All right. Just text me when you take off, and when you land, and when you reach the apartment."

"I will," she agreed, kissing him lightly. "Give everyone my regards and have a great time."

He escorted her to the kerb and helped her into the waiting limo, squeezing her hand before he let go and closed the door. Watching the car pull away, he frowned slightly, holding his trophy in one hand, still wondering what had just happened.

"Matthew! Hey! Do you need a lift to the party?"

He turned around and smiled as Eddie came up and gave him a warm hug.

"That would be great, yeah," Matthew nodded. "Mary's exhausted, so she's calling it a night."

"All right, well get in, then!" Eddie laughed, motioning to the waiting limo.

Matthew piled in with Eddie and his wife and some of their friends. He was introduced all around and accepted their well wishes as the limo headed off into the London evening bound for the first of several after-parties.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, February 19, 2018**

"Thanks for coming to meet me. You really didn't have to," Mary stated, looking out the window as the limo headed down the motorway from the airport.

"No problem," Anna replied. "Alex told me to go. When he heard Matthew wasn't coming back with you, he didn't want you to travel alone."

Mary smiled. "That's kind of him."

"Don't worry, I'm sure he'll expect me to make it up to him when I get back," Anna laughed.

Mary shook her head.

"Any particular reason why you decided to come back and leave Matthew in London?" Anna asked. "I can't imagine it was his idea."

"No, it wasn't," Mary shrugged. "He was so pumped up after winning, and we had so many friends around wanting to celebrate with him. I didn't really want to deny him that. The only reason he was flying back tonight was for me, so I thought why not let him stay and soak it all up? I told him to have a great time and just come back tomorrow, or later today."

"That's rather selfless of you," Anna noted.

"Selfless, yes, that's me," Mary replied.

She took out her phone to text Matthew to tell him she landed in Paris safely. Her Instagram notifications had numerous shots from the evening in London where the two of them had been tagged. Scrolling through her timeline, she saw photos of Matthew arriving at various parties with some of their friends, smiling happily, his trophy gleaming in his hand.

"Seems like he took your advice and enjoyed himself," Anna remarked.

Mary nodded and texted him.

He replied right away and told her to let him know when she got home and went to bed.

She smiled and shook her head.

"You know, I told you that you're not due on set until noon," Anna added. "You could have stayed with him. It would have been tight, but we could have made it work."

Mary shook her head. "No, that's quite all right. I made my rounds, saw everyone I needed to see. It's his night."

"Even just having breakfast with Lady Edith in the morning would have been fun. You won't be back to London for a while," Anna continued.

"I texted her. We had a nice chat," Mary shrugged. "She and Bertie are headed to Brancaster this week. Anyway, I hate to be rushed."

She gazed out the window as the lights of Paris came into view.

"Finally home," she whispered.

 **Wild Card Boxing Club, Hollywood, California, USA, March 1, 2018**

"Three…two…one…nice…" Alex nodded.

Matthew let out a long breath, reaching up and stopping the speed bag from moving as he finished his set of punches. He turned and followed Alex over to the heavy bag, taking up his position in front of it and raising his gloved fists.

"Body first," Alex called, standing behind the bag and holding it steady.

Matthew nodded and hopped up and down several times, trying to work the fatigue out of his muscles before continuing his workout.

"One-two," Alex instructed.

Matthew bent his knees and launched a two-punch combination.

"One-two," Alex called again.

Matthew grunted as he kept punching, a left to the body, and a follow-up right to the face of the imaginary target on the large bag.

"One-two! Come on, this is fucking nothing," Alex snapped.

Matthew groaned harshly, straining from the effort.

"Henry Talbot," Alex called out.

Matthew scowled and fired again, sweat pouring down his face and arms.

"Henry Talbot," Alex repeated.

Matthew snarled and punched harder, making Alex have to brace the bag tighter.

"Henry Talbot," Alex said again.

Matthew finished with repeated right hands blasted into the imagined head of the heavy bag, yelling out as he fired the last blow with a resounding thud.

"Not bad," Alex noted, coming out from behind the bag.

Matthew bent over and rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. He straightened up and walked around a bit, trying to get his wind.

"Come on, old man, get over here," Alex chastised him.

Matthew gave him a rueful look before tapping gloves with him and trading places.

"One-two," Matthew said tiredly.

Alex struck with rapid punches, his hands striking quickly with practised technique. He even ducked his head back and forth in rhythm before delivering the next set of punches.

"One-two," Matthew called more forcefully, trying to get him to throw with more aggression. Alex was always very measured and composed, and even though this was just for exercise, Matthew thought his friend had plenty of stress he could work out if he let his hands fly a bit more.

Alex continued through the set, landing with perfect efficiency, his face a mask of concentration.

"Alexander Green," Matthew announced.

Alex frowned at him, pausing for a moment.

"Come on," Matthew chided him. "Alexander Green."

Alex took a deep breath, then fired off another combination.

"Alexander Green," Matthew continued, daring to say the name of the man who tried to seduce Anna into a liaison and nearly succeeded.

"Fuck," Alex grunted, hitting harder.

"Alexander Green," Matthew repeated. "Let's go! Fuck him up!"

Alex shouted with each punch, throwing his full weight behind his blows, not even bothering to stop or wait for Matthew to call out the cursed name again.

"Wow," Matthew noted when Alex finally finished and took a step back, placing his hands on his waist and breathing deeply. "Don't want to get on your bad side."

Alex huffed, giving Matthew a pointed glare before touching gloves with him and heading off to a nearby bench.

"You're sure he won't be in town this weekend, right?" Matthew asked, sliding his gloves off and unwrapping the tape from his hands.

"Tony's not, so why should he be?" Alex asked, tossing the balled up tape into the trash.

"He shouldn't, but he knows Anna will be here, that's all," Matthew replied.

Alex shook his head. "We're not going to live our lives looking over our shoulder for Mr. Green. If he tries anything, I'll be there, and if for some reason I'm not, Anna can handle him. Her jab is better than yours."

Matthew laughed and nodded.

"What about you? Ready for all the events you're going to?" Alex asked.

"I don't think I ever will be," Matthew shook his head. "Yesterday wasn't bad – just the luncheon to attend. Tonight is…the Cadillac party? Tomorrow is the worst. All the agency events."

"Joe really should be here with you. Most actors have their agents or publicists come along," Alex noted.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Matthew joked. "I like being on my own. It makes it harder for people to get a hold of me."

"And it makes you seem like you're not interested. The Academy pays attention to everything, remember. They don't like loners," Alex commented.

Matthew smirked. "Come on. You know I'm not going to win, so who cares what I do? I'm just here to see people, take Mary around since she's never been to the Oscars, and have a good time with you and Anna and everyone."

"You've won everything else so far," Alex pointed out, leading him into the change room.

"And I wasn't even nominated for a bunch of other important awards," Matthew shrugged. "It's not going to happen, and that's fine. I've already well exceeded everyone's expectations, including my own."

"If you say so," Alex shook his head. "I've got a few meetings tonight. I'll bring up your treatment, but no promises if anyone will want to read it."

"I'm used to that," Matthew retorted. "Whatever you can do. I appreciate it. I'm seeing Rooney at some point tonight. She was asking me about it."

"If you get Rooney and Mary in your movie, that I can pitch," Alex stated.

Matthew shook his head. "I don't have a role for her. She's too talented to waste on a bit part. She's just being kind."

"Fair enough. What's this Anna told me about we're on our own for dinner tomorrow? I thought the four of us were going out before the CAA party?" Alex asked.

"Mary's meeting with some investor tomorrow night before the agency parties. She's doing a favour for Paul," Matthew shrugged. "Something about lining up financing for his next movie."

"She's doing another one with him?" Alex asked in surprise.

"I don't know. She hasn't seen a script. You know Mary. She likes being chased, and if I'm being honest, her options are pretty limited still, so she's open to anything," Matthew answered, taking off his sweaty t-shirt.

 **Cecconi's, West Hollywood, California, USA, March 2, 2018**

Mary followed the hostess through the restaurant and out to the patio. The sun had just set and the place was already busy. Most of the industry was gearing up for all the agency parties tonight. She had about a two-hour window before she had to meet Matthew and the others at the CAA event. Aunt Rosamund assured her that it was fine to show up whenever she wanted, but she didn't want to arrive separately from him.

" _Marie_ ," Jean-Paul smiled, kissing her on both cheeks before she was seated at his private table in the back corner of the patio.

Mary nodded in greeting and glanced around, noticing there was a bit of a space carved out around them, other tables not being nearly as close as throughout the rest of the restaurant.

"Thank you for coming. I know you are busy," he began cordially.

"Thank you for meeting with me. Paul appreciates you making time for us," Mary replied, watching as a server came over and poured a glass of white wine for him to sample. He nodded his approval and the server filled both of their glasses.

"Of course. Paul is a dear friend," he replied smoothly, sipping his wine. "He is rather coy on details about this new project, though. All he will say is he wants a lot of money."

She laughed appropriately and sipped her wine. It was quite good, smooth and dry. "He's asking you to trust in him, to have faith."

"I do trust him, but I must see whether I trust him as much as he wants me to," he replied. "Now, before we get into business, tell me more about yourself. We did not talk much at the party in Nice."

"I don't know if there's much to tell," she answered, watching to see if she could find any hint of his intentions behind those green eyes. At the party in Nice, she didn't spend any time with him, his name and face lost in the crowd of people that Paul had introduced her to. Sitting with him now, she noticed he was a bit younger than Paul, more fit and sophisticated with his carefully groomed hair and designer suit on his lanky frame. He looked like the billionaire that he was, she decided, a man who had power and influence, and knew it.

He chuckled. "I'll be the judge of that. Enlighten me into who the real Lady Mary Crawley is."

She nodded and gave him a small summary of her upbringing and career. It was normal to have a little blurb memorized for interviews and promotional appearances. She tailored it a bit to her audience, mentioning how she was enjoying living and working in Paris, keeping the details mostly professional, leaving her personal life out. She suspected that he knew about the scandals with Henry and her family that had tainted her in the past year, but there was no need to bring them up.

"It is funny. Here we are in California, discussing a film that may never even play here," he noted.

"I don't know if that's true," she replied easily. "There will be North American distribution at some point. We're bringing _The Muse_ to Montreal in August, for example."

"Yes, I am happy to play in this market, but Paul does not care for it. He believes that Europe and Asia are more than enough, and he is right about that, to a point," he remarked.

She took another sip of wine as the servers brought out an antipasto platter and their glasses were refilled. Apparently Jean-Paul liked to order without menus for his meals, as Paul did.

"You must enjoy working with Paul to do three movies with him," he deduced.

"I haven't agreed to the third one yet," she corrected him. "I like to see a complete script before making any decisions."

He smirked. "Why has he sent you to me if you are not signed for this movie? I thought he wanted you."

"He does," she confirmed. "But he could draw from his usual group if need be. He could use Aline, or Audrey, instead."

"Yes, but they are not here. You are. Why?" he asked.

She smiled. "Convenience? We're both in Los Angeles at the same time."

He chuckled. "Convenience. Maybe he thinks that you make a better impression on me than they can."

She stabbed her fork into a piece of melon, keeping her expression casual. "Is that part of your analysis? Do you prefer to know the talent that you're paying for?"

He shrugged. "If I say yes to him, I'm paying for everything, but I do like to know what I am getting for my money."

"And are you more likely to say yes if it means you are paying for me?" she enquired.

He smiled. "That is the only option that I have been given. With no script, and no treatment, he is asking me to invest on the idea of a project with you in it."

"I think he's asking you to invest in his project," she clarified. "His reputation speaks for itself."

"Maybe I will insist that you are a part of it," he suggested. "Maybe I will make the money contingent on you being the lead."

She arched her eyebrow at him. "You would pull your funding if I declined to be in it? I haven't had any films released in France yet. Maybe I'll be a flop."

He grinned and shook his head. "I doubt that. Besides, better to get involved now before your films come out. If they succeed, Paul will raise his price. If you were not in the movie, I would have to reconsider, at least. If I am not getting what I paid for, that is a problem."

"Aren't you most concerned about profit above all else, though? A proper return on your investment?" she asked.

"That, among other things," he nodded. "So, are you in?"

She took a moment to taste another piece of melon wrapped in prosciutto. She took her time and swallowed before answering. "I can't say yet. I'll have to see. What I can tell you is that if you don't fund the movie, there will be no project for me to be in at all."

He laughed and nodded his head. "He was right to send you to me."

She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin as two plates of pasta primavera were served and their wine glasses refilled once more. She took up her fork and gathered a healthy amount of the dish, feeling quite peckish following the banter with Jean-Paul.

"Do you ever invest in Hollywood movies?" she asked, sampling the pasta.

"Not really," he waved his hand. "There is so much bureaucracy here, so many people to deal with. The agreements are so much more complicated – everyone gets a percentage of everything. I prefer back home. It is easier, and the profit is higher, if you know what you are doing. I will put in a little here and there with American studios if I like what I see. I give them enough so that they keep inviting me to these events and parties, but it is a small position, not one with any authority."

"In France, you have more power," she stated.

"Not over the movie, no. I do not tell the director what to do," he explained. "But I can get the answers that I want quicker, and so decisions are easier. They only depend on me."

"Ah," she nodded. "It doesn't matter to you whether you ever fund an Oscar-winning film?"

He smiled. "I don't care much for awards. Your fiancé, he is nominated, yes?"

She nodded. "For Best Supporting Actor."

"For an actor, is good. For me, there are far more important things to get out of the investments I make," he declared.

"Again, the profit, the money," she stated.

"Among other things," he agreed, meeting her eyes. "A little trophy is not what I want."

She nodded and went back to eating her pasta.

"How is it?" he asked.

She smiled. "Delicious."

 **Rodeo View Suite, Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, March 3, 2018**

"Crikey, I don't know how I lasted through the evening, but I somehow did," Matthew sighed in relief. He looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and began brushing his teeth. "I'll be glad to get to the awards ceremony finally. The agency parties are just death."

"They're not nearly as onerous as you make them out to be," Mary called from the bedroom. "You had fun, admit it."

He rolled his eyes and grunted in objection.

Her laughter floated over to him. "You seemed to be enjoying all the attention. There was a queue of people waiting for some precious seconds with you."

"That's a lie, and you know it," he answered, wiping his mouth with a towel. He checked his reflection again before turning off the light and coming back to the bedroom. "There's nothing special about me."

"I disagree."

He groaned in surprise when she shoved him against the wall, her lips seizing his, her tongue delving into his mouth.

"Mary!" he exclaimed, his hands moving to her hips. "What the?"

"Shut up," she growled, moving to his neck and nipping at his skin. "I don't like how those women were looking at you tonight."

"What?" he spat in confusion. "What women?"

"All of them," she hissed against his chest, her hands throwing his pyjamas down his legs. "Rooney, Natalie, Daisy Ridley, Jennifer Lawrence, all those models and pornstars who comment on your photos and ask you to message them. I fucking hate them all."

He blinked in shock, letting out a ragged breath as her hand took hold of him and stroked him. He could barely even remember meeting any of those women tonight, let alone even talking to them to the point that Mary would be jealous. They both had quite a bit to drink tonight, but she was being quite aggressive now, even for her. "Darling, Rooney and Natalie are just good friends. Both of them are in long term relationships."

"So are you," she snarled, kissing him again. "You're mine and I don't appreciate those bitches eye fucking you."

He chuckled. "Is that even a word?"

"Yes," she slurred. "They all wanted you, and they can't have you."

He kissed her firmly, his hand moving around to squeeze her bottom through the thin silk of her robe.

"Darling, you have always been the only one for me," he promised.

"I know that, and I want them to know it, too," she declared, stroking him faster. "Hit me up, daddy," she said in a mocking high-pitched voice. "Those sluts stalking you on Instagram. I want to tear their fucking eyes out."

He laughed in disbelief at her angry words. "I don't even pay attention to any of that."

"You're lying," she sneered. "Some whore with huge boobs and who's been in dozens of adult movies says she thinks you're gorgeous and you don't pay any attention? I don't believe that."

"I honestly have no idea who you're talking about," he smiled in amusement, barely able to even comprehend that Mary even cared what some model or porn actress might think or say. "Unless I recognize the name, I don't read my comments. Why would I care if a model or adult film star cares about me, anyway?"

"Because you're a man. You love having women worship you," she replied, kissing his neck and shoulder.

"Well, I'm spoken for. I don't need anyone else," he said easily. "Let me show you."

She yelped as he suddenly picked her up off the floor. Her legs barely wrapped around his waist before he crossed the room and threw her on to the bed. She found his hungry stare just before he pulled her robe off of her. Her panties followed in short order, and she clawed at the duvet for purchase as he crawled over to her and spread her legs wide.

"You're mine," he stated, his eyes fiery as he kissed along her thigh. "No one else's."

"Matthew!" she moaned, arching her back as his mouth latched on to her core and his tongue pushed inside.

"Say it," he ordered, kissing all over her sensitive flesh while his fingers took over.

"I'm yours!" she called, shutting her eyes tight.

"No one else's," he repeated.

"Fuck! No one! Nobody else! Oh God!" she shouted, her hips moving against his mouth and hand, urging him deeper.

She chanted a litany of filth, begging and pleading for release. He laughed darkly and played with her, keeping her teetering on the edge while she panted and rasped.

"I want to hear you," he commanded, swiping his tongue over her.

"Oh fuck! I'll fucking scream your name. Just get me there! Please!" she demanded.

"As you wish, m'lady," he taunted her before closing his lips around her spot and curling his fingers inside of her.

"Matthew!" she shouted, grabbing fistfuls of the duvet in her hands and lifting up off the bed. Her legs tensed, his strong grip the only thing stopping her from squeezing his head between her thighs.

He feasted on her as she shook, the sounds of his talented mouth stoking her arousal. He moved up her trembling body and offered her his fingers. Looking up at him with dazed eyes, she took them in, tasting herself while he watched.

"God, Mary," he gasped. "I love you so much."

She licked his fingers as he withdrew, her body boneless, her pulse racing. Reaching down, she found him hard and thick. He bared his teeth and smiled at her menacingly, his eyes telling her his dark intentions.

"I'm yours," she nodded, her voice hoarse from shouting. "Fucking take me. Any way you want."

He grinned, leaning in and kissing her as he turned her over on to her stomach.

"Keep talking," he said, moving on top of her and pausing just before he thrust on target.

She did. Loudly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Previously:**

 **Rodeo View Suite, Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, March 3, 2018**

"Matthew!" she shouted, grabbing fistfuls of the duvet in her hands and lifting up off the bed. Her legs tensed, his strong grip the only thing stopping her from squeezing his head between her thighs.

He feasted on her as she shook, the sounds of his talented mouth stoking her arousal. He moved up her trembling body and offered her his fingers. Looking up at him with dazed eyes, she took them in, tasting herself while he watched.

"God, Mary," he gasped. "I love you so much."

She licked his fingers as he withdrew, her body boneless, her pulse racing. Reaching down, she found him hard and thick. He bared his teeth and smiled at her menacingly, his eyes telling her his dark intentions.

"I'm yours," she nodded, her voice hoarse from shouting. "Fucking take me. Any way you want."

He grinned, leaning in and kissing her as he turned her over on to her stomach.

"Keep talking," he said, moving on top of her and pausing just before he thrust on target.

She did. Loudly.

 **Chapter 5:**

 **90** **th** **Academy Awards, Dolby Theatre, Hollywood, California, USA, March 4, 2018**

 _'Well, all right, then…erm…come on, words…any second now, please…'_

Mary followed the usher away from the glittering stage and to a side door, down a hallway, up a few stairs, past some rather large security guards and into the backstage area.

 _'To the Academy, thank you so, so much. Congratulations to all my fellow nominees. It's a privilege to stand among you.'_

The atmosphere backstage was electric, frenetic and chaotic. She dodged staff dressed all in black, wearing headsets and scurrying about, towering women in haut couture dresses waiting to walk out on stage to carry trophies and escort winners back here, actors and actresses waiting to go out to present, and numerous other people who she didn't recognize or understand what their purpose was of being backstage. Photographers and camera crews were all over the place, capturing everything to give the world a glimpse 'behind-the-scenes' later in the night.

 _'My Mother is watching somewhere in Japan right now. Mom, I love you. Thanks for never telling me to grow up and get a real job.'_

As she made her way deeper into the bowels of the auditorium, she saw producers, executives, and other actors that she knew. Some of them smiled and nodded, others waved. No one called out to her, or asked her to stop and talk. She expected that she drew attention as much for her dress – an Armani Privé dark blue, strapless, backless sheath dress with a slit in the front that went to mid-thigh. Her gown was chosen specifically to compliment Matthew's tuxedo, and Anna told her that following their red carpet arrival, she was on all of the Best Dressed lists for the evening. That was something, at least.

 _'I feel as if I've been thanking the same people a lot lately, but that's only right, because I owe all of this to Sony, Thea Sharrock, the amazing cast – Rick, Natalie, everyone – the wonderful crew in Toronto who took such good care of us. Thank you.'_

She had been backstage at awards shows before, as a presenter, and twice as an award winner. Everything and everyone seemed to whizz by, the emotion and adrenaline of the moment stopping her from really noticing anything. This time she did notice, however. There was an extra charge in the air. This was the Oscars, and even though she was but a guest this time, she could feel how much more important and special it all was.

 _'My agent, Joseph Molesley, has been with me for pretty much all of my career. Thank you. To Alex Lewis, thank you for taking time away from closing big deals to tell me to take a chance and audition for the part of Nico. It's one more thing in my life that I owe you for.'_

She turned a corner and stopped as she faced a long hallway that led past a set of elevators and to the media area. There was a bit of a crowd in front of her, crew members waiting with their cargo for the next elevator, men and women in formal dress standing around and having a chat, and ushers squiring people back and forth from the press conferences. She saw him leaning against the far wall, staring at the floor with a silly smirk on his face, the golden statue balanced on his bent knee.

 _'I've spent the majority of my career so far being unemployed. When Thea told me I won the part, I was ecstatic, mainly because it meant I had a job. Every day on set I got to work with amazing people, and one in particular, and that's Mary Crawley.'_

She slowly made her way towards him, stepping past and around whoever was between them. There was no rush. He looked like he was waiting to go in to see the press, like he still couldn't believe all that had happened. She wondered if he was overwhelmed by just tonight, or the wild ride he'd been on over the past few months. Every award he won made the journey seem more surreal. Winning the Golden Globe was a shock, adding the SAG Award was unexpected, collecting the BAFTA was bizarre. Tonight made it all seem like they were caught in a fantasy.

 _'I had almost all of my scenes with Mary and she pushed me every single take, often by just being a true professional. I didn't know it was possible for me to do some of the things I did in this film, until she challenged me to do them. Darling, I love you, and I can't wait to see what the future brings for us. Thank you very much. Thank you.'_

He lifted his head at the last moment, as if he could sense her presence. His eyes found hers. Blue. Brown. Joy. Pride. He stood up straight and turned as she reached him, both of them smiling, neither saying a word.

Her left hand reached up and caressed his cheek, her diamond engagement ring – his ring – prominent on her finger as always. He covered her hand with his and brought it to his lips, kissing her palm, his eyes remaining on hers all the while.

"Hello, darling," she grinned.

"Hello, Mary," he replied.

She laughed just before he leaned in and kissed her, her back arching as she pressed against him. His tongue jabbed eagerly at her mouth and she opened her lips and let him in. They were making out in a crowded hallway, but it didn't seem right to worry about decorum or propriety now.

Matthew just won a bloody Oscar.

"At the rate you're going, we're going to need a trophy case for wherever it is we end up living," she teased, kissing him lightly.

"I assumed we would already have a room set aside for yours, regardless," he smiled, kissing her again. "Here, hold it. It's actually lighter than the SAG Award."

She frowned slightly as he handed it to her.

"Go on. None of that superstition nonsense," he nodded. "We're a team, you and I, especially on this movie. I wouldn't have this at all if not for you. This is our win, my darling, just like all the others."

She smiled nervously and took it from him, the weight surprising her as she hefted it, holding it tight, afraid to drop it. Glancing down at the empty baseplate, her pulse quickened. Granny had let her hold her two Oscars a few times, or, more accurately, she and her sisters had grabbed them when no one was looking, but this felt much different.

"I have to go and get it engraved at the Governors' Ball, apparently," he advised. "I just need to do some press and we can head back for the rest of the ceremony."

She smiled and nodded, handing the trophy back to him.

He took her hand again and moved to pull her down the hallway.

"Matthew, wait," she called suddenly, making him turn and look at her curiously.

"What is it?" he asked, beaming at her, the excitement of the evening still wrapped around them both.

She swallowed, pausing to find her voice. "I love you," she grinned. "More than anything else in the world, and I'm so proud of you."

His blue eyes seemed to light up. He squeezed her hand and continued on.

She smiled politely as they walked down the hall. Matthew was taken into the press room, and she stood behind the curtains, watching him stand at the microphone and answer the reporters' questions. They eventually made their way back to their seats, and the rest of the ceremony was a blur. Once it was all over, as per tradition, all of the award winners were brought on stage together. Matthew went around shaking hands and trading kudos, all while photographers circled around. She watched from just off-stage, waiting patiently for him to come and get her, giving him time to enjoy being up there.

 **Vanity Fair Oscar After-Party, Annenberg Center, Beverly Hills, California, USA, March 4, 2018**

"Congratulations, really. It's great."

Matthew smirked, looking at her playfully.

"Come on, stop!" Rooney Mara laughed, shaking her head. "I'm really happy for you, really. I mean, honestly, for real."

He laughed and hugged her. "Thanks. The studio is probably over the moon, you know. They can add this to the trailer of our film, now."

She smiled and nodded. "Right, yeah. Academy Award winner, Matthew Crawley…"

"And, Academy Award Nominee, Rooney Mara…" Matthew joked. "Together in _The Disciple_."

She laughed and slapped his arm playfully. "Fuck, that sounds horrible."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to watch that piece of shit," he agreed. "No, it'll be good. Whatever gets the movie more exposure and into theatres, right?"

"Yeah, that's true," she shrugged. "Hey, so I read your treatment."

He blinked. "Oh. And?"

"I liked it," she replied. "I thought it was going to be all sentimental and introspective at first, but it actually goes at a decent pace."

"That's probably more because I was so frazzled when I was writing it," he chuckled. "I'm talking to a few people about it, all preliminary stuff. My friend, Alex, he thinks he might be able to get me some money for it, so we'll see. Maybe it'll be direct-to-video someday, if I'm lucky."

She shook her head and smiled. "Well, if you want me to read for it, I will."

His frowned at her in confusion. "What?"

"I liked it," she repeated. "I think it's a cool story, and you're only shooting for a month, so I'll go out for it, if you want."

"Wow, uh, that's…that's great! I just wanted to know what you thought of the story, but I didn't think you'd actually want to be in it. I never really thought of asking you because there's no role that's really big enough for you. I wouldn't want to waste your time with just being in a few scenes," he explained.

"Oh, right, yeah, cause Mary's taking the lead," she nodded.

"Yeah, that's the plan," he confirmed. "I would love for you to be in it, but truly, it's kind of beneath you."

"Shut up," she groaned. "You know that I like smaller projects, anyway."

"Then you ought to love this one because it's infinitesimally small," he nodded. "Thanks, really. I appreciate it, but I think your agent and many studios would be rather angry with me if I stuck you in here for what wouldn't be much more than a cameo."

"Okay, well let me know if you get to film it. If you shoot somewhere close, I'll come visit," she promised.

He hugged her. "Thanks. I really appreciate it. I'll let you get back to Kate and the others. Thanks for finding me. I was afraid I was going to miss you before you took off for your next party."

"Highly in demand, that's me," she joked, giving him a quick kiss before leaving for the bar.

He left and went to find Mary.

* * *

"You look beautiful."

Mary turned and smiled, nodding at the compliment as Jean-Paul came up to her.

"Jean-Paul, hello," she greeted him, kissing him on both cheeks. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Always," he nodded. "Hollywood parties are always fun."

"I hope the lack of gymnasts and contortionists hasn't ruined it for you," she joked.

He chuckled and nodded. "Whether it is in Nice or Los Angeles, the company makes the party, not the entertainment. That is just for show."

She nodded.

"And you? Where is your fiancé?" he asked.

"He's around here somewhere," she replied, glancing around briefly. "Everyone loves a winner. He's probably catching up with an old friend, or five new ones."

"I was surprised that only he was nominated from your movie," he noted. "All four of you were very good. You were excellent, yourself, _Marie_."

"Thank you. The studio got behind all of us, I'm sure, but Matthew was the one who drew the attention. We're very lucky. To have anyone on the cast nominated for all these awards is tremendous, and it reflects well on the entire group," she answered.

He smiled. "Everyone loves a winner, though."

She smiled politely.

"I am glad to have seen you tonight," he continued. "I have reached a decision about Paul's movie."

"So soon?" she asked. "I expected you would go back home and think it over. After all, it is quite a bit of money that Paul wants, as you said."

"It is, but a big investment can lead to a big return, and I like the potential here. I've decided to give him his financing. You have convinced me," he stated.

She smiled. "That's very generous of you. I'm sure Paul will be thrilled."

"I have no doubt. I'll call him tomorrow. I wanted to let you know, since you played a part in my decision," he advised.

"Ah," she nodded. "So there are conditions? You'll re-evaluate your investment if I don't decide to do the film?"

He grinned. "No, there are no conditions. You said it – Paul's reputation speaks for itself. He has done well with me. I have made good money with him. I like what I have seen and what you have told me, so there are no conditions."

"Wonderful," she smiled.

"But, I must tell you," he added. "Now that the financing is in place, and the movie will be made, if Paul wants you for the lead, you have less reason to say no."

She arched her eyebrow at him in understanding, recalling similar words she had used on him just a few nights ago at dinner. "Touché."

He leaned in and kissed her on both cheeks. "I will be in Paris in April. We can talk more then. Have a good night, _Marie_."

She kissed him back. "I look forward to it. Good night, Jean-Paul."

He stepped away and left her, weaving into the crowd and disappearing.

"There you are," Matthew called, coming over to her. "Some of Alex's studio contacts want him to go over to the Weinstein party? Fancy another bash, or did you want to turn in?"

She smiled at him, noticing that his eyes were still lit with excitement and his whole body seemed to be buzzing with energy. It was already nearing 8 a.m. back in Paris, but it wasn't even yet midnight here on the Pacific. Though getting out of her heels and slipping into bed sounded heavenly at the moment, now was the time to be a good sailor.

"I don't see anything wrong with another stop," she encouraged him. "I'll get a hold of Anna and we can go."

She took his hand and got out her phone to text her assistant. Matthew glanced around the room, his gleaming Oscar in one hand, and his fiancée holding his other.

 **Rodeo View Suite, Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, March 5, 2018**

"Mmm," Mary sighed, turning her head into the pillow. Her hands cradled his head as he kissed all over her breasts, his lips and tongue teasing her. She arched her back and stretched, humming contentedly as the last waves of her release rolled through her. He kissed his way up to her mouth, the taste on his tongue making her moan before he moved off of her and lied down on his back. She moved over top of him, resting her head next to his on the pillow, covering him with her body.

"Well, that wasn't bad at all," she whispered, catching her breath.

He chuckled, spanking her lightly and shaking his head. "Not bad, hmm? Your compliments know no bounds, Lady Mary."

"Well, I think you've received more than enough praise all evening with everyone fawning over you," she replied, kissing his chest. "Besides, 'not bad' isn't an insult. It leaves plenty of room for improvement, is all."

"Give me a few minutes and I'll show you who needs room for improvement," he snapped.

She laughed and licked his ear, their naked bodies warming each other delightfully. "You were amazing," she drawled. "I loved how you got so hard in my mouth. When you had me on my hands and knees, it felt so good. I'm going to be sore tomorrow after you stretched me out with your big, huge, mammoth…"

"You minx!" he snorted and tickled her. She yelped and slapped his chest. They rolled back and forth, laughing playfully until they finally called a truce and settled back down together under the duvet.

"I got a fair bit of decent feedback from people on my treatment," he mentioned. "Alex was in meetings this week to see about financing. It may actually happen, believe it or not."

"Mmm, well you are a hot commodity now," she noted. "I still think that you should do a proper film first. You could always use the experience to see how the whole process works behind the camera, pay more attention to the production part of it. Jumping into directing so soon sounds a bit rash."

"Possibly," he agreed. "I just think it would be fun to create something from the beginning. Plus, I think it's exciting that I could have this story told, rather. I've had the general idea for years."

"Your story will always be there for you to tell, darling," she replied, playing with his fingers. "Perhaps now isn't the best time for it. The scrutiny on your next move will be intense. You're an Oscar winner now."

He scoffed at that. "Yes, but if we do my film, we can work together, and it will ensure we're in the same city for at least a month."

"Oh, Matthew," she chided him. "That's hardly a priority."

"Don't you like the part?" he asked. "You said the script was good."

"I said the treatment had promise. I haven't seen the full script yet, to say nothing for I have no idea on your financing yet. Maybe you can't afford me," she remarked.

"That's harsh of you," he complained, spanking her again.

She laughed and kissed his cheek. " _The Muse_ comes out later this month. After I see how that's received, then I'll plan my next move. I just don't want you to close off any opportunities, that's all. We have limited time in this business where we get to call the shots. This is yours. Remember that."

He held her close, feeling her breath against his neck. "I still can't believe all of this is happening."

She smiled and kissed him lightly. "It's all happening for you, Matthew. You've achieved more in a matter of months than the majority of actors do in their entire careers."

"We've done it together," he said, squeezing her bottom. "I don't think I could imagine a better life."

"Matthew Crawley, Oscar winner. It does roll off the tongue rather well," she smiled.

"I like the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Crawley much better, actually," he replied, rolling her on to her back and kissing her languidly.

"Mmm, that would be Mr. Crawley and Lady Mary, to be precise," she teased, arching her eyebrow and caressing his face.

He covered her hand with his. "Fine by me. So long as I get to call you mine."

She laughed and nodded eagerly as he moved over her and spread her legs.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, March 21, 2018**

Anna frowned, looking at the pregnancy test again before tossing it in the bin.

"You all right?" Alex asked, massaging her bare shoulders.

"Fine. Still barren, but fine," she answered, shaking her head sadly.

"You're not barren," he scolded her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"Well, you're far from sterile, so there must be some explanation," she grumbled. "Maybe the miscarriage changed something. Maybe Dr. Ryder was wrong. Maybe she just said I was okay to keep my spirits up, when really, maybe…"

"Maybe you need to quit inventing excuses to explain something that has a far simpler explanation, love," he interrupted, taking her by the shoulders and turning her around. He sat down on her vanity chair and pulled her on to his lap. "These things take time. That's it."

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, relaxing in his hold. She didn't expect the pregnancy test to be positive, she never did, but something about seeing the proof that she still hadn't conceived a child with her husband made it all real. Another month, another failure. It didn't bother her as much as it did before her miscarriage, but her hopes were higher now, which made each disappointment all the more maddening.

She and Alex had repaired their marriage to the point that she thought they were never stronger than they were right now. She had let go of the last threads of worry and concern over her near infidelity and accepted that he had truly forgiven her. When they were busy with work, it was easy. They were always in sync when they were busy, knowing when to give each other space, when to pick up more of the chores around the apartment to lighten the load for the other, and when a hug or patient ear was needed. It was the quieter moments together that terrified her before. She always assumed that when Alex looked at her, truly looked at her, he would see her weakness, her betrayal, that his eyes would always look upon her with suspicion and distrust.

After a few months, she learned that she needed to trust his love if she ever wanted him to trust her again.

Being in Paris together helped. They relied on each other more, being so far from home, with only Mary and Matthew as real friends in the city. They discovered the place together, going to museums, art galleries, bistros, cafés and castles, the shared experience bringing them closer together.

The famous romantic mood of the City of Love had done the rest. There was just something about walking hand-in-hand along the Seine, sitting on a patio having wine and chatting, wandering ancient buildings and kissing in gardens where royalty used to tread – it all made their private moments together so much fun, reminded them of how good they were together.

And, of course, put them both in a randy mood almost daily.

It was rather ironic that they weren't pregnant yet considering how great their sex life had become. She didn't even need to monitor her ovulation calendar very closely. They were making love almost daily, often times more than once. After the difficulty they went through in the summer, a small part of her thought that their passion would fade to nothing, that he would see being with her as a duty only, just going through the mechanics to have a child and nothing more.

She had vastly underestimated him, and underestimated herself, as well. They had never wanted each other more.

"Mmm, you're so understanding. I know many men who wouldn't be," she noted, nuzzling against his neck.

"I know many men who are assholes to their wives, too. That doesn't mean I'm one of them," he replied.

"You most certainly are not," she agreed, kissing his neck lightly.

"It's a nice day out. Let's go and have a picnic. What do you think?" he asked.

"I think that's a brilliant idea," she nodded. "We can make sandwiches, find a place overlooking the river, maybe. It'll be great."

"Good. Get dressed and I'll go and see what we have left in the kitchen," he suggested.

"Yeah, check and see what we've got for dinner tonight, too. If we have to go to the grocers, we may as well pick everything up in one shot," she noted.

"We could just eat out," he mentioned.

"No, I want to stay in," she replied. "I'm not due on set until tomorrow afternoon, which means that I get to spend most of tonight fucking my husband."

He grinned, surprised at her boldness.

She rolled her eyes. "Babes, I may be disappointed that I'm not pregnant yet, but I'm definitely not upset that we get to keep trying."

He chuckled, kissing her lightly.

"And I won't be in my window for another week or so, which means tonight we can experiment as much as we want," she added, giggling at his face lighting up.

"Well, in that case, we definitely need to go to the grocery store," he smirked.

She eyed him suspiciously. "And why is that?"

He looked at her intently. "I want to pick up a few things…to try out later."

 **Cinéma Gaumont Opéra, 9e arrondissement, Paris, France, March 22, 2018**

"Par Ici! Ici! Marie! Marie! This way! Over here! Please!"

There was a small procession in front of them when Mary and Matthew exited their car at the kerb in front of the theatre. Fences were set up to keep autograph seekers and paparazzi at bay, and the security guards were hardly needed. Compared to Matthew's _Black Panther_ premiere in London, Mary's debut tonight in _The Muse_ was decidedly more tame. For one, the French usually took their photos inside the building, not needing the expanse of space outside that larger Hollywood features used. For another, there simply wasn't that many people here. Her face, and that of Vincent, towered large on the lit billboard of the cinema's marquee, and the smaller posters framing the entrance, but even compared to the _Shattered_ premiere, there still wasn't anywhere near the amount of grandeur.

Still, she smiled and signed autographs, posed for selfies and answered a question or two. Her pink Ellie Saab sleeveless top was paired with a skirt that went just past her knees and featured swirls of colour in striking patterns. Movie premieres were less formal, but still demanded elegance. For tonight, her audience was the small group outside, and the larger crowd inside awaiting her arrival. For tonight, these people were the ones she had to impress.

"Mathieu! Mathieu! Please! Over here! This way! Mathieu!"

She smiled and kept signing as Matthew stood a ways behind her. Paul and Vincent were finishing up and heading inside, and she was almost through the crowd herself. Matthew continued along, trying not to acknowledge the repeated calls of fans and photographers alike. They snapped their photos anyway, catching him with his eyes on Mary, waiting patiently for her to finish. When she finally did, she went directly inside, the staff guiding her through. Matthew followed behind, his name still being shouted out.

They went up an escalator and into a larger foyer. A backdrop with the logos of the movie and the studio was set up at one end, with paparazzi stationed opposite. Paul and Vincent were already standing there, smiling as the flashes went off in waves.

" _Marie,_ " Paul called, nodding for her to come over.

She went to his side, his arm going around her waist. Vincent stood on his other side and the three of them smiled and posed for the cameras. It was more of a photo station than a red carpet, but she reminded herself that it was still a film premiere in a major city, and more importantly, a film with her as the lead.

After several minutes, Paul and Vincent moved on to do interviews with the three or four French media waiting off to the side. Mary posed alone, turning her head back and forth, hand on her hip, chin up, lips pursed, eyes cold. The photos and video of tonight wouldn't go much further than French news outlets, some London papers and YouTube. If any other sites or media picked up the photos, they would be just another small item.

"Mathieu! Please! Please!"

A staff member nudged Matthew forward, and the paparazzi turned their cameras, firing away as he approached. Mary handled it smoothly, turning and smiling at him when he reached her side. He put his arm around her waist and they went through their well-practised routine of posing as a couple for the cameras.

Eventually, Mary joined Paul to take her turn with the media, answering questions in English and French, smiling and laughing with her director perfectly on cue. They were confident of a decent opening and reception in France, but for the movie to have legs throughout the Continent and into Asia, they needed to sell it more. A well-known director and his award-winning British lead actress was one of their strongest cards to play.

As she answered the questions, she noticed Matthew was still standing in front of the backdrop, the paparazzi still focused on him. By the time she was finished her interviews, he was waiting off to the side. Mary was ushered into the theatre and up on stage for Paul to introduce the film and say a few words to the audience. Matthew, Alex and Anna took their seats. Mild applause greeted Paul's words, and when the house lights finally went down, Mary took her seat next to Matthew and settled in to watch her first movie in almost a year.

"Nervous?" he whispered, taking her hand.

"No," she shrugged. "The work's done, the film is finished. We'll now get to see how it plays."

They looked up at the screen as the opening credits rolled.

 **Le Queen Nightclub, Champs-Élysées, Paris, France, March 22, 2018**

" _Marie!_ Félicitations! It was so wonderful!" Aline exclaimed, kissing Mary on both cheeks and hugging her.

"Thank you," Mary replied, kissing her back. "And thank you for coming out."

"Of course! I would not miss it," Aline shrugged. "There is something special about a premiere for one of Papa's movies, no? It is so much more important, more of an event."

Mary nodded politely. While she was pleased with how the evening had gone, this was far from the biggest premiere she'd ever been to.

"The reviews will be generous, I expect. This will be well received," Aline said confidently.

"Do you think so? It's my first French film. I do hope it does well," Mary admitted.

"You have no reason to fear," Aline assured her, patting her shoulder. "People will love it."

Mary nodded and sipped her drink.

"Your Matthew seemed a bit…I don't know…bored?" Aline smiled.

Mary looked at her curiously. "Bored? How so?"

"Oh, just an observation," Aline noted. "He seemed a bit out of place at the cinema, and even here at the party."

"Matthew isn't very outgoing," Mary shook her head. "I'm sure he enjoyed the movie."

"I hope so," Aline nodded. "I have seen it before. I once brought an old lover to one of my films and she did not like it at all, but then she didn't understand it. Sometimes, it is surprising for people who are not familiar with Paul's work. They see how different his approach is, how different his films are, and how he is able to have his cast perform differently. It can take some getting used to. They cannot see the genius that you and I can."

"Matthew just wants the best for me," Mary nodded. "I doubt that he thinks about Paul very much at all."

Aline smiled and sipped her drink.

"Marie, Aline, come, come," a staff member called, beckoning them over.

"Another photo, come," Aline smiled, taking Mary's hand and leading her through the crowd. They came to Paul's table. The director was standing, surrounded by well-wishers and hangers-on. The crowd moved away as the two actresses came forward.

"Ah, perfect," Paul smiled, holding his arm out.

Mary came to his side and leaned against him slightly. Aline went to his other side. With the tall model opposite her in the shot, Mary lifted her head and straightened her posture. The camera man raised his hand to draw their attention. Paul drew the ladies closer to him. Mary smiled as the flash went off.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, March 22, 2018**

"So? What did you think?" Mary asked, taking off her earrings.

"You were fantastic, darling," Matthew nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. "The use of the monologues was really quite effective, particularly to show the change in mood of your character."

"Thank you," she smiled. "What about the film overall?"

"It was good," he replied, nodding his head.

She arched her eyebrow, watching him remove his shirt and trousers before he sat down on the bed and slipped into his pyjamas.

"Good," she repeated. "That's all?"

"Erm…yes, I thought it was good," he nodded, smiling at her before taking his clothes back to his closet.

"Good isn't great," she noted, removing her top.

"Well, I didn't think it was great, no," he replied.

"What?" she asked, frowning at him.

"It was good," he offered, going over to his side of the bed and pulling the duvet free. "I thought your performance was more memorable than the film overall."

"That's curious. I thought it turned out quite well, overall," she replied, undoing her skirt and setting it aside.

"The story was a bit strange," he remarked. "Vincent didn't have too much to work with. His character's obsession with yours was sort of glossed over."

"Glossed over?" she questioned. "Most of the first Act was spent establishing it."

"Yes, but it doesn't go much further than her beauty, does it?" he asked. "There wasn't sort of any moment of inspiration that you would equate with her being a muse. He paints her several times, but that makes her more of a subject, than a muse, really."

"So the terminology was the problem?" she asked. "If we called the movie _The Subject_ , would that have sufficed?"

"It's not just that," he shrugged. "Paul's style is a bit clumsy. Some of his cuts were quite abrupt."

She rolled her eyes. "Darling, I think Paul knows slightly more about directing than you do."

"I don't think it's a question of who knows what. I'm talking about what I saw on the screen," he replied.

"Goodness, it's fortunate that I was in the movie, otherwise it sounds as though you wouldn't have bothered with it at all," she scoffed.

"You're right, I wouldn't," he agreed, somewhat distracted by her standing there in her bra and panties. "I said that the movie was good, mostly due to your performance."

"That's a rather backhanded compliment. I gave a noteworthy performance in a forgettable movie. Wonderful," she frowned.

"I don't think it's a forgettable movie. I thought it was good," he objected. "Why? You thought it was better than that?"

"I thought it was quite brilliant, actually," she nodded. "Paul put his vision onscreen exactly as he planned."

"Brilliant?" he repeated in surprise. "Come on, now. Just because he uses a lot of wide shots and pans around you as you're walking doesn't make his story any less flimsy in parts."

She glared at him in disbelief. "Flimsy? Now the man fancies himself a screenwriter. You're one to criticize. He's written and directed quite a few more movies than you, the last time I checked."

"Experience doesn't necessarily result in more objective or informed opinions. If that were the case, then the only people qualified to criticize anyone would be older actors and directors. I'm not questioning Paul's experience. I honestly haven't seen any of his other work. Based on what I saw tonight, I think he uses certain intricate shots just to show that he can. I didn't see any real artistic purpose to a lot of it. It was rather narcissistic, I thought," he finished.

"Narcissistic?" she exclaimed, frowning and putting her hands on her hips. "I'll have you know that Paul's a genius. He's forgotten more about filmmaking than you and I know combined."

"A genius who's never achieved any success at all in North America," he retorted.

"He doesn't care for the way movies are made over there, and I can see his point. Studios have far too much control," she stated.

"I don't think it's the studios that determine whether his films succeed or not, it's the audience, or lack thereof," he pointed out.

She rolled her eyes and huffed. Stomping over to her side of the bed, she sat down and removed her bra, tossing it aside before lying down and pulling the duvet over herself.

"You're acting as if it's blasphemy to criticize him, as though no one is allowed to question Paul's decisions," he said, coming to bed.

"I don't believe you have the knowledge or understanding to criticize him," she answered. "I've worked with him intensely for months now on two films. His commitment to his craft and his willingness to push the boundaries are admirable, and impressive. He's ahead of his time in many ways."

"Well hopefully the next film bears that out more than this one did," he grunted, turning on his side and shifting over to her.

She huffed and closed her eyes.

"I did think you were brilliant," he reminded her, moving his arm across her front and tucking it below her bare breasts.

"Mmm, thank you," she replied tiredly.

She grudgingly let him spoon behind her, covering his arm with her own. Still facing away from him, she dozed off and fell asleep, her pique only slightly abated by the warmth of his body against hers.

 **Townhouse of Dr. Sybil Crawley and Tom Branson, Brooklyn, New York, USA, April 15, 2018**

"Are you sure the sizing is right? Mine was quite tight," Sybil complained frowning at the images of Mary, Anna and Edith on her tablet screen.

"The sizing is correct. Don't worry. They'll adjust for your last fitting in the summer," Mary replied.

Sybil frowned and shook her head.

"Darling, you had a baby but six months ago. You look gorgeous. Don't be so hung up on a number," Edith said patiently.

"Edith's right. God, did I just say that?" Mary exclaimed.

The others all smiled, though Edith's was more rueful than genuine.

"Darling, the dress will fit. Besides, at the rate they're going, Anna and Edith will both be pregnant by the wedding anyway, so none of you may be wearing your actual true sizes," Mary added.

"Who knows? Sybil could be on to number two by then," Edith noted. "We'll all be waddling down the aisle."

"All right, perhaps waddling would be a bit much," Mary frowned.

"Don't worry, even if we all became pregnant tomorrow, the bump by September wouldn't be so noticeable," Anna suggested.

"Mary wouldn't mind at all. It would ensure that she shone brighter than all of us on her wedding day," Edith replied.

Mary shrugged. "It would certainly make for some interesting bridal photos."

"Oh, I was going to ask – do you have a release date for your movie here in the States yet?" Sybil questioned. "It's been out in Europe for nearly a month already."

"No," Mary shook her head, glancing over at Anna wryly. "We're bringing it to the Montreal film festival in August, so maybe sometime after that. There's no distributor for the US yet."

"I thought it might play in one of the French theatres here in Manhattan, like the Paris Theatre in Midtown," Sybil stated.

"Not yet," Mary sighed.

"We can go watch it again and Bertie can bootleg it for you, if you want," Edith raised.

"Yes, that's what I need – Lady Mary Crawley's sister and brother-in-law caught illegally filming her movie," Mary rolled her eyes.

"To be fair, I think they would call us the Marquess and Marchioness of Hexham first," Edith joked.

"Whatever. Anyway, I'll let you know, Sybil," Mary finished.

"We've got the venue, the dresses, the transportation, invitations, centrepieces, flowers and multimedia sorted," Anna listed, going over the spreadsheet on her tablet. "I think we're in pretty good shape."

"What about the hen night? We need to get on that," Sybil chimed in.

"Oh God," Mary rolled her eyes. "It's really not that important."

"Not important? It was the best night of the entire week for me," Sybil protested.

"Same," Edith shrugged. "All right, well, maybe second best."

"You're both mad," Mary scolded them. "I should hope the actual wedding and reception far exceed any shenanigans that the two of you put together for my hen night."

"Overall, for pomp and grandeur, maybe, but hard to really compare. Mum and Dad will be at the wedding, and they're most certainly not invited to the hen night," Sybil replied.

"Anna, we'll message you privately to figure it all out," Edith declared.

Right then, thank you all," Mary said crisply.

"Talk to you later, darling. Love you," Sybil smiled. "Edith, Anna."

They all exchanged warm goodbyes before hanging up the call.

"Everything all right?" Tom asked, coming out of the kitchen carrying Emily against his chest and shoulder.

"As all right as can be expected when dealing with the Wedding of the Decade," Sybil replied, smirking at him. "Thank God for Anna. Mary's head seems to be all over the place. She's working so hard to wrap her movie this month that wedding planning seems to have slipped her mind."

"Well, she probably prefers not having to deal with your mother and Isobel," he noted. "Mary was never going to marry on the cheap, obviously. I doubt she cares much for all the details, though."

"No, she certainly cares, just not right now," she replied.

"Well, it's all good. She and Matthew are practically married already. They've been given far more freedom than you and I were," he stated.

She smiled and shook her head. "You're still salty that we didn't get to live together before we were married. So Irish."

"He gets to sleep with her every night!" he whinged. "You were practically shoving me out of your bedroom window so we wouldn't be caught!"

She giggled. "Yes, but it made our liaisons all the more exciting, didn't it?"

He gave her a wry smile before leaning over and kissing her. "I suppose it was rather fun being your dirty little secret for a while."

"Mum and Dad knew what we were getting up to, trust me," she laughed. "And based on their affair with Jane, we now know that our escapades were decidedly tame compared to theirs."

"Can we not talk about any of that? I'm really trying to forget it all," he grumbled.

Emily squealed happily and nuzzled her head against her father's neck.

Sybil laughed and took her daughter from Tom, the both of them making funny faces at their child.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, April 30, 2018**

"What do you think?" Mary asked, frowning at Paul.

He looked at her curiously. "What is it that you think? How did it go, do you think?"

She shrugged. "It could have been better. It felt rather bland."

He smiled and nodded. "You had very little heat with him, almost no connection."

"I'll work on it," she affirmed.

He nodded and turned to Edna, giving Mary her cue that their chat was over.

Mary turned around and walked back on to the set, rubbing her hands together. Today was the last scheduled day of filming and Paul had deliberately held back the two steamiest scenes in _Orlena_ – Mary's love scenes with Jimmy and Aline – to today. He explained that he wanted to give the actors as much time as possible to be comfortable with each other so their performances would come across as more believable, but he also wanted a closed set with as little personnel as possible. By wrapping the rest of the movie, but for these two scenes, he ensured that the studio was practically deserted.

Though she appreciated the privacy, she was at a loss to explain what was going on with Jimmy. Their scenes up until now had gone well, the two of them finding an easy rapport. Jimmy had worked hard throughout, she had to admit, and she thought today's scene would be the easiest of all. The man was a consummate flirt, so a seduction scene ought to have been second nature for him. For some reason, their first few takes had been clumsy and seemed forced and wooden.

"Paul wants us to go again," she explained, walking over to him. "You all right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah," he nodded. "Just warming up. The next take will be better, Mary, promise."

"You don't need to promise me anything, just do your job and we'll be fine," she replied. "What's going on, Jimmy? Honestly."

He looked down at the ground and frowned.

"Jimmy?" she pressed.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just a little nervous," he muttered.

"But why? You've done plenty of love scenes before," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but they were all with nudity," he answered.

She arched her eyebrow. "And?"

He shook his head. "Love scenes with nudity are easier because whatever I do, it's all allowed and they'll just use whatever shots they want in post. With you, I have to be careful. What if I pull your top off at the wrong angle and you're exposed? What if I take your shorts off and show too much of you. It's a lot to think about, that's all."

She frowned, going over his words several times to make sure she had heard him correctly.

"Jimmy," she began. "You really don't have to worry about it. I'm covered underneath these clothes, so even if you were to strip me naked, I wouldn't actually be naked."

He blinked in surprise. "What?"

She shook her head and laughed a little. "I would never film any love scene without taking proper precautions first, and I would never rely on a man to ensure I was protected. I've got patches on that cover everything. You don't need to think about what you're doing. Just go with what we scripted."

"Oh," he stuttered. "Oh! Oh, okay. Wow, thanks, Mary. That's a huge relief."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, you're free to manhandle me now. Now come on, we need some a spark, some heat for this scene, yes? All good?"

He chuckled and high-fived her. "All good."

She turned and nodded towards Paul. The director barked out orders to the small crew and Mary and Jimmy took their marks, standing near the bed.

"I hope Matthew doesn't mind too much when he sees this scene," he joked.

"Hmm? Oh, Matthew, right. Well, don't worry about him. He's seen me have sex on-screen before, including with him," she shrugged.

Paul called out 'Action' and Jimmy smiled, slowly looking Orlena up and down. He circled around her, his eyes falling down her frame, lingering on her ass before he came up behind her and put his hands on her hips.

"Théo," Orlena breathed, pursing her lips. "I don't know if…"

"You promised," he replied in French. "You said tonight would be the night, didn't you?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Yes, I did."

"And I have been patient with you, yes?" he asked.

"Yes, you have," she agreed.

"And you want this, yes?" he asked softly. "I am not asking you to do anything that you do not want? You want me."

She closed her eyes and licked her lips. "Yes."

He stepped around her and reached up to unbutton her shirt.

Her eyes snapped open.

"Me, not him," he nodded. "Say my name."

"Théo," she sighed as he pressed his lips to her neck and removed her shirt. With his chest pressed against hers, his hands reached around and undid her bra, pulling it free and dropping it to the floor.

"Say it," he rasped, his hands moving down her bare back and slipping beneath her shorts to cup her ass.

"Théo," she gasped, closing her eyes.

He picked her up and carried her to the bed, his body covering hers so that it was only suggested that she was naked. With the bed sheet draped over them, he rolled over so he was sitting up, leaning back against the headboard. She kissed her way up his chest, straddling him and moving her hips beneath the sheet. He moved his hands down her sides and took hold of her hips, kissing her as she rode him.

"That's some fucking good shit, yeah," he grunted.

She had to stop herself from laughing at his sudden outburst and ruining the take. It wasn't uncommon for her co-stars to become aroused during love scenes, though it was rare. Jimmy had his eyes shut now. Who knew what he was thinking of. She kissed his cheek as they continued.

"Théo…Théo…" she whispered sultrily, drawing Jimmy back to the moment.

He opened his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his lips to her neck, picking up the steps they had rehearsed. After several moments, he turned her on to her stomach, and moved over her, kissing a path down from her nape and along her spine before lifting her hips.

She moaned and gasped, rocking back and forth from his thrusts. He leaned over her and kissed her neck, his lips moving up to her cheek and finally seizing her mouth when she turned her head to taste him.

They went on for several minutes, ensuring they had enough footage to fill the time that Paul would allot to the scene. She finished by calling out his name one last time before he groaned and collapsed on top of her.

"Cut! Bon! Much better!" Paul shouted.

Jimmy scrambled away, keeping Mary covered with the bed sheet.

"Better?" he asked, smiling over at her.

"Not bad," she smirked, deciding not to call him out for his slip. They got the take they needed, that's all that mattered.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, France, April 30, 2018**

"Well, that's essentially a summary of the plot. Did you have any questions?" Matthew asked, smiling politely at the staid businessman in the video chat window on his laptop.

"I like the story, Matthew. It's your proposed cast that I have some concerns with," he answered.

"Oh?" Matthew replied. "Such as?"

"Well, I expect you would be playing the lead role," he stated.

"Yes, that's correct," Matthew nodded.

"And it says here that Mary Crawley is in line to be the female lead?" he asked.

"Yes, she is," Matthew confirmed.

The man paused before continuing. "Matthew, look, I'll be honest with you. I like the plot. I like that you're in it. I know it's your first attempt at directing, but I like that, actually. It's a great opportunity for my company to get in at the beginning. It's a modest budget and we can't see how we don't make money after factoring in potential ticket sales and Blu-ray sales."

"However?" Matthew prompted him, his stomach tightening.

"However, with all due respect to your fiancée, we really don't know how marketable she is for our purposes. I'm not so much concerned about her image, though it isn't very strong at the moment. It's her draw. Maybe we can get some of her fans who followed her in _Paladin_ , but it's very difficult for us to come up with numbers for that. Television audiences don't always translate well to movies, especially since we're talking about Mary, and not her character from the show," he explained.

"I take your point, though I may not agree with it, but isn't there bound to be a sort of bump from the fact that this will be a film that we're doing together? There's some appeal to that, isn't there?" Matthew stumbled, not even sure he knew what he was talking about.

"Doubtful," he shook his head. "There's more examples of real life couples not producing good work. You don't want to be the next _Far and Away_ , or _Gigli_ , do you?"

Matthew swallowed. "No."

"We're interested, Matthew. We are. Think over what I said, see what your options are, and we can talk some more. It's not a no if Mary is involved, but I wouldn't be willing to fund the entire budget. You would need to find someone else," he advised. "I'll be in London next week. We can have dinner at Soho House if you're in the city. I prefer Mayfair."

"Oh, umm, I'll see. I wasn't planning on heading up, but I might be able to manage it," Matthew muttered.

"You should, if only to see the club. It's quite a lot better than the one in West Hollywood," he remarked. "Belonging to the club has certain benefits for young creatives like you. There's a House Seven event coming up featuring a talk by Ben Affleck."

"I see, well, yes, that sounds…interesting," Matthew commented. "All right. Thanks. I will think about it, but I really can't see how Mary wouldn't be involved. My purpose in writing this script was for us to work together again."

"I understand. Listen, Matthew, I know it sounds great to be able to work with your fiancée, and yeah, the two of you were fantastic together in _Shattered_ , obviously. But these days, it's not like old Hollywood. It's rare to see to see a couple make a whole bunch of films together. You want to be flexible, take on different roles and characters. If the audience sees you with Mary constantly, they won't be able to take you seriously if you want to try something vastly different."

Matthew nodded, reluctantly acknowledging the point. "Thanks for your time."

He wished the potential investor well and hung up the call. Sitting back, he exhaled slowly before getting up and from the sofa and heading to the kitchen. He grabbed a Coke from the fridge and took a long sip on his way back to the living room, mulling over how he would make up any difference in funding if he couldn't find one investor to foot the entire bill.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, April 30, 2018**

Anna watched as the makeup artists adjusted the tape over Mary's breasts and the fit of her flesh-coloured panties. Her hair was touched up as the wardrobe people waited patiently with her dress. The love scene with Aline would be different from that with Jimmy, and occurred at a different time in the film as well. Accordingly, it required different clothes and styling. Eventually, Mary was finished and she went over to quickly put on her dress.

"You all right?" Anna asked, noticing how Mary seemed to have a distracted expression on her face.

"Hmm? Oh, yes," Mary nodded. "Just going over the scene and what I have to do."

Anna nodded. "It is rather different from scenes you've done before, and especially after Paul's changes last week."

Mary nodded, standing still as the crew member zipped up her dress at the back and adjusted the thin straps on her shoulders. She nodded and departed, leaving Mary and Anna alone looking at their reflection in the mirror.

"What did Matthew think of your taking a female lover?" Anna joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Oh, well, he knew all about it from the beginning when he helped me read lines," Mary answered lightly. "He understands that it's part of the plot."

"Yes, but the original script only involved a chaste kiss, not the love scene that you have now," Anna noted.

Mary nodded and turned to see how the dress fell along her body.

"I suppose most men would be thrilled to see their fiancée with another woman wearing nothing but lingerie," Anna offered, looking at Mary closely.

"Well, he isn't most men," Mary replied. "Anyway, I didn't tell him about the changes to the scene. I really haven't had any time with how busy we've been."

Anna blinked. "Oh. Well, he was always going to find out at the premiere along with the rest of the world."

Mary shrugged. "It isn't a big deal. It's just another scene, is all, showing the evolution of their relationship. The fact that they're two women shouldn't matter. I know it will, but it honestly isn't important."

Anna frowned slightly before following Mary out of the wardrobe trailer and back to the set.

* * *

"This time, why don't you lead?" Aline suggested.

"Lead?" Mary questioned.

"Yes. You play the scene scared at first before you become aroused and active. Try being aggressive earlier on this take," Aline continued.

"Aggressive, hmm," Mary pondered.

"It fits. Orlena was changed by the affair with Théo, and now she is changed still more by Ludivine. Show that. Show that she is no longer afraid and docile. Papa will use the parts of each take that he likes in the final cut, so being more aggressive here may give him more to consider," Aline advised.

Paul called out for the actors and crew to prepare for the next take.

"So? What do you think? Will you try it?" Aline asked as she and Mary went back over to the bedroom set.

"I'll surprise you," Mary smirked, arching her eyebrow as they went to take their marks.

Aline giggled and went over to stand in front of the mirror.

"Action!" Paul called.

Orlena came into the room, her eyes taking in Ludivine's lithe figure, the lace and silk of her negligee still revealing her long legs and toned arms.

"What do you think?" Ludivine asked in French, appraising herself in the mirror.

"Beautiful," Orlena replied softly, approaching her side. She reached out and ran her hand along the lace backing. "So soft."

Ludivine nodded and smiled. "I bought one for you, also."

"How did you know my measurements?" Orlena asked incredulously.

Ludivine looked at her over her shoulder. "I think I figured them out."

Orlena looked at her for a moment, her eyes moving to her lips, down her long neck and to her chest. She stepped behind her, Ludivine, turning to watch their reflection in the mirror.

"The one you bought for me, is it also red?" Orlena asked, her hands moving up to the taller woman's hips.

"Black," Ludivine answered.

"Black. Well, that is one of my favourite colours," Orlena whispered, her hands sliding around to Ludivine's front and tracing upwards. "Is it the same style?"

"No," Ludivine shook her head, her eyes closing slightly as Orlena cupped her breasts through the soft fabric. "It is more…"

"More revealing?" Orlena asked.

Ludivine nodded and sighed.

"And when you bought it, did you imagine me wearing it?" Orlena asked.

"Yes," Ludivine admitted.

Orlena smiled and turned Ludivine around to face her.

"And did you imagine taking it off of me?" Orlena asked, looking at her intently.

Ludivine nodded.

"I've imagined you doing that, too," Orlena whispered, framing Ludivine's face with her hands and kissing her.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, May 6, 2018**

If the wrap party for _The Muse_ was a fun celebration, with half the guests dancing and the other half hanging around the bar and sampling the food, this one for _Orlena_ leaned decidedly to the dancing vibe. The set was turned into a nightclub, complete with flashing lights, smoke machines, and a DJ playing thumping electronic music. Paul and his circle still held court from a large table near the bar, but the cast and crew, who seemed to skew younger than his last film, were all on the dance floor celebrating what had been a long and gruelling shoot.

Matthew held Mary by her hips as they danced. She was facing away from him, her hand reaching up and curling around his neck, holding him tight to her as she grinded back against him to the beat of the music. For the past five songs they'd been locked together like this, oblivious to all around them.

He knew this movie had taken more out of her than she cared to admit. Unlike _The Muse_ , where she had an experienced and well-recognized actor in Vincent Cassel to play off of, this movie was more focused on her and her performance. The other cast members and their characters' stories revolved around hers, and that pressure to carry the film was all the more heavy when paired with the tenuous nature of her career.

 _The Muse_ was still playing in some countries across Europe and Asia. It was relatively well received but hadn't garnered any awards buzz or gushing reviews. There was the usual praise for Paul and his vision of showing the raw nature of how an artist becomes obsessed with his subject, and Mary's performance was usually singled out as well, but so far it did not appear as though this would be the vehicle to bring her back to Hollywood. It was a solid introduction for her to the French film industry, but not much else.

Accordingly, _Orlena_ took on added significance, and with it now wrapped and done, he could see how much she needed to let go and celebrate having reached the finish.

"You're hard," she whispered, turning her head and kissing him lightly. "I love how you feel against me."

He gave her a firm thrust as the song quickened.

Her other hand moved from her side to slide in between them, seeking him out and squeezing him as they danced.

"Mary," he growled, lowering his head and kissing her neck.

"You could lift my skirt and take me right here, in front of all of these people," she teased.

"Watch it, I just might," he snapped.

"Save it for later," she smiled, removing her hand and kissing him quickly. "I need to go and freshen up."

He glared at her but straightened up and took her hand, leading her off the dance floor.

* * *

"This is quite the party," Alex noted as Matthew came to his side.

"You have no idea," Matthew shook his head wryly, sipping his rum and Coke and trying to calm himself from the effect of Mary groping him on the dance floor.

"I have news. I spoke with Adrian again this afternoon," Alex advised.

Matthew blinked and looked at his friend intently at the mention of one of the investors they'd been speaking with. "Yes? And?"

Alex smirked and brought his drink to his lips. "And he's willing to fund you."

Matthew's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "For how much?"

Alex finished his sip and smiled. "The entire production budget."

Matthew laughed incredulously. "You're serious?"

"I never joke about money," Alex nodded. "Yes, I'm serious. They'll fund the production. The marketing and distribution still need to be dealt with, and those are two rather huge areas."

"But I've got the money to at least shoot my movie," Matthew clarified.

"As long as you stay on budget, yes," Alex confirmed.

Matthew laughed and slapped Alex's hand twice before touching fists in a celebratory handshake. "That's amazing! Thanks, Alex, honestly. Thanks a tonne!"

"Don't thank me yet. If it ever makes it to a screening depends on who you can pitch next. Adrian repeated that he doesn't think Mary is strong enough to sell it. He would rather you have someone with more of a name. Get someone popular and he'll pick up the entire cost of everything, start to finish," Alex noted.

Matthew frowned slightly, but nodded. It was a position that numerous investors had touched on during his pitches.

"Anyway, that's down the line. You've got your money. Now you have to go and do something with it," Alex declared.

Matthew smiled bravely and raised his glass to his friend. Despite his nerves surrounding the daunting task ahead of him, the drink was warm and smooth on his tongue, the taste of victory.

* * *

Mary smiled as she made her way back to the party. With so many guests, the washrooms closest to the set were plagued by long lines. In a moment of genius, she decided to head to her trailer instead, but soon regretted not having thought of it earlier and lured Matthew back here with her. The beat of the music and the cheers of the revellers would have been heady background noise to their illicit sex. It was a missed opportunity, but she wasn't bothered. They would make up for it when they got back to her apartment.

She laughed, shaking her head at such sordid ideas passing through her head. She was quite drunk, but she didn't care. Tomorrow would have a fresh set of items and tasks to worry over. Tonight was for partying, and she felt she earned it. The past year had been absolute hell, and she was nowhere near fully recovered from it. For tonight, though, she was an actress with one film out and another one just wrapped, and there was some value in that. She was fighting back, little-by-little, and all she could do was keep going and hope her efforts would pay off soon.

She rounded a corner and stopped short, her eyes going wide in shock.

A couple was kissing passionately against one of the trailers. The woman was pressed against it, her hands in the man's hair, their lips locked together. The man's hands roamed up and down her body, clutching her breast through her thin top one moment, reaching around and squeezing her ass through the short skirt a moment later. Even in the dark shadows of the trailer area, the couple's faces and the shape of their frames could be made out.

Aline and Jimmy.

Mary stood there, transfixed, not knowing what to do, her mind racing. Were Jimmy and Aline an actual item? Wasn't it more likely this was a drunken hook-up or something? Why were they even here by the trailers anyway? Had he brought her back here, or was it her idea?

She stared in stunned silence as Jimmy moved his head and kissed Aline's neck. Aline's hands clutched his back, pulling him closer. Her mouth fell open and she moaned at his touch, her eyes shut tight.

Mary began backing away slowly, urging herself to leave.

Aline opened her eyes, her vision finding Mary. They were looking right at each other.

Aline smiled and held on to Jimmy as the young man continued feeling her up, not realizing that they were being watched.

Aline opened her mouth and moaned again, her eyes never leaving Mary's.

Mary felt her cheeks warm, the idea of catching these two in the act sending strange shocks through her.

Aline inclined her head, her eyes beckoning Mary to come closer, her smile inviting her to join them.

Mary shook her head and looked away, quickly spinning on her heel and leaving, trying to distance herself from what she'd seen and heard.

When she made it back to set, the party was still going strong. She barely recognized half the people here, but that didn't matter much. She felt strangely confused following what she'd just witnessed. Her impulse was to get back to Matthew immediately, to leave Aline and Jimmy's tryst as a funny footnote to the evening. Determined to enjoy herself tonight, she made her way back towards the bar.

 _"Marie."_

A strong hand reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her from continuing on. She turned her head and blinked as she saw Jean-Paul's smiling face appear before her and relinquish his hold.

"Jean-Paul. Hello," she managed, kissing him in greeting and smiling. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Very much," he nodded. "And you?"

"Yes, it's just what I needed," she agreed.

He smiled. "Now that this film is over, what is next for you?"

She arched her eyebrow. "Well, I haven't decided as of yet. Paul's script for his next film is still not entirely finished."

"I don't know if it ever will be," he shrugged. "You know Paul by now. He likes to change, add, subtract. His script is constantly evolving even through the production."

She nodded. "I suppose that's true."

"So, you have his script, such as it is, and you know him, and he has my money," he nodded.

"I don't know if now is the time for such decisions," she cautioned.

"But you are still considering it?" he asked. "It would be a shame if you didn't. This is where you belong now. By the time the third movie is made, you will be considered a rising star here based on the last two films."

"I am still considering it," she nodded.

"That is enough, for now. Enjoy your evening, _Marie_. We will talk again soon," he kissed her on both cheeks.

"The same to you. Yes, soon," she replied, smiling at him before she walked away.

Jean-Paul smiled and shook his head as he watched her leave. Turning away from the dance floor, he went back over to Paul's table and sat down next to the director.

"You spoke to _Marie_?" Paul asked the financier in French.

"I did, yes," Jean-Paul replied. "She is still considering your movie. I would say your chances are good."

"The British beauty rejected by the Americans and made a star here in France," Paul stated, smiling smugly. "It does sound poetic, yes?"

"Poetic and good business," Jean-Paul agreed, smiling as a server brought full wine glasses over for them. "I like the idea of all of us owning a piece of her."


	6. Chapter 6

**Previously:**

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, May 6, 2018**

Jean-Paul smiled and shook his head as he watched her leave. Turning away from the dance floor, he went back over to Paul's table and sat down next to the director.

"You spoke to _Marie_?" Paul asked the financier in French.

"I did, yes," Jean-Paul replied. "She is still considering your movie. I would say your chances are good."

"The British beauty rejected by the Americans and made a star here in France," Paul stated, smiling smugly. "It does sound poetic, yes?"

"Poetic and good business," Jean-Paul agreed, smiling as a server brought full wine glasses over for them. "I like the idea of all of us owning a piece of her."

 **Chapter 6:**

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, France, May 11, 2018**

"Well? What do you think?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow.

Anna finished reading the script and set it aside. "Well, erm, it's different."

Mary rolled her eyes. "I didn't love it, either."

Anna shook her head. "This is what the studio thinks is cutting edge television?"

"Didn't you read the scene where I blame my ex for ruining my life, but end up sleeping with him anyway?" Mary asked sarcastically. "That's cutting edge. Stuff like that never happens on television."

Anna sighed. "Well, I'm sure Lady Rosamund will find something better for you."

"This was literally the best of the lot, she said," Mary grumbled. "It's for Netflix, and the money's good, so there's that. But I wouldn't even be playing the lead, and I'm not entirely sure I want to spend the summer in New Mexico."

"I heard it's gorgeous there, though rather hot," Anna mentioned.

"It isn't that I'm against doing television again, it's just that this seems like such a step back," Mary complained, curling up and resting her head on the top of the sofa. "And it's a miniseries, so good or bad, it won't last beyond the initial run. If it gets panned, it'll hurt me more than help."

Anna nodded. "So that leaves you with the same choice as before."

"Paul's movie and Matthew's," Mary agreed. "I know."

"I'll selfishly vote for Matthew's," Anna smiled. "I wouldn't mind spending the summer back home, not that being here isn't great as well, but still."

"Summer in Toronto is beautiful, yes," Mary nodded. "I'm just not sure it makes much sense. He has financing, which is more than I thought he'd get so soon, I'll admit, but he has no marketing, no distribution, who knows when it'll even be released? That's not even mentioning that he's a first-time director who has literally no idea what he's doing."

"He does have a clear vision of how he wants the film to look, and that includes having you in it," Anna reminded her. "That's something."

"It is, you're right. It's not much, though," Mary shook her head. "I have to decide soon. Both films are starting up in June, with or without me."

"Maybe Matthew can put his over until after the wedding?" Anna suggested. "That would free you up to do Paul's?"

"Maybe. Though, I doubt his investors will like that," Mary replied. "Anyway, I need to think about this. I'm having lunch with Aline later. I'll see what she knows about Paul's next movie."

"Has he at least polished his script at all?" Anna asked.

"Not yet, but that's the way he is," Mary shrugged. "I'm not concerned about the script, really. I know enough already about the movie. I'd be playing the lead, Estelle – the woman caught between her criminal husband and her policeman lover. The big draw for me is that the entire film is told from Estelle's perspective, so I'd have the most screen time, as opposed to just being a pretty face, and she's a very strong character from the very start. She's not innocent like Lily was in the beginning, or timid like Orlena. She's unapologetic and savage right from the off, which I really like."

"Matthew's story is more a slow burn, more tense than dramatic," Anna nodded.

"It's interesting – I'll give him that. Two lovers who find out that their fathers killed each other. I think it's rather daring of him to film it all taking place over a matter of days, and we wouldn't have all of our scenes together – the stories of the characters weave in and out, which I found quite impressive when I read it," Mary admitted.

"Tough call," Anna remarked.

"If Matthew wasn't involved, I would probably choose Paul," Mary huffed. "He's the established director, I have a history working for him now, and I know his film will be in theatres next year."

"So you've made up your mind, but you don't know how to break it to him?" Anna asked.

"No, I haven't decided, not fully, anyway," Mary objected. "Paul will be disappointed if I say no to him, also, you know. So regardless, I'll be letting someone down."

"You're not marrying Paul though," Anna smirked.

"No, no I'm not," Mary rolled her eyes. "All right, I need to get ready for lunch with Aline. I'll see you tomorrow."

Anna nodded, got up from her chair and left the apartment.

Mary rose from the sofa and headed down the hall to shower.

 **Salon d'Hélène, Saint-Germain des Prés, Paris, France, May 11, 2018**

"So, have you made a decision about Papa's movie? Will you be joining us?" Aline asked.

Mary smirked and sipped her tea, taking her time before putting the cup back down. "I was wondering how long it would be before you brought that up."

Aline laughed and nodded. "You had to know I would ask."

Mary shrugged. "I imagine that Paul is eager to know."

"He is, but I am also eager to know," Aline clarified. "He wants you in the movie, and so do I."

"That's very kind, but even if I did agree to the role, we would only have two or three scenes together. It wouldn't be like it was in _Orlena_ ," Mary noted.

Aline laughed and reached out to place her hand over Mary's on the table. "I don't care about that. I told you already. My city is beautiful in the summer and I want you to be here to see it."

Mary glanced at their hands, the stark contrast of dark skin on light drawing her attention. "I've spent the summer in Paris before."

Aline pulled back her hand and reached for her drink. "Perhaps, but not with me. You haven't seen my Paris."

Mary smiled and tasted a light crostini with chorizo and parmesan. "Your Paris? And will Jimmy be joining us as we explore?"

Aline laughed. "You saw us during the wrap party? That was just for fun. Jimmy is good looking, but no, I will not be seeing very much of him."

Mary nodded. "I thought as much."

"What are your other options?" Aline asked casually. "What is out there that might steal you away from us?"

Mary laughed lightly and took a sip of water. "A few projects back in North America. You know, coming to France was supposed to be only temporary. I hadn't planned on making two films here, let alone three."

Aline nodded. "And these other projects, do they have directors like Paul?"

Mary shook her head. "I don't know if there are any other directors quite like him."

Aline smiled. "Exact. I know the audience here, _Marie_. They will warm to you. _The Muse_ was a good beginning. When _Orlena_ comes out, you will see how much interest you get. That is why if you do this next one, it will be released when the public is clamouring for you."

"Clamouring for me? Goodness. That's a rather bold prediction," Mary noted.

"The French are like that. They are suspicious of outsiders at first, but once they are won over, they can be very loyal, even protective. Some actors do not like it. They think that fans get too close, feel too connected to the big stars here in France, but it is like this," Aline explained.

Mary nodded.

"Why are you so quick to go back when they didn't want you? Will you not be wondering if they might drop you again over the smallest thing? Stay with us, _Marie_ ," Aline implored, a knowing smirk on her face. "Stay with us and see how high you can go."

Mary arched her eyebrow in thought. She blinked and glanced down at the table when her phone buzzed.

"It's Paul," Mary smiled, reaching for the phone. "Did you plan this?"

"No, not at all," Aline grinned. "He knew we were having lunch today. He wants to convince you as much as I do."

Mary laughed and answered the call. "Hello, Paul. Yes, I'm with Aline. Yes, she did ask me about the film. Yes, she did tell me how much you want me…"

 **Townhouse of Dr. Sybil Crawley and Tom Branson, Brooklyn, New York, USA, May 11, 2018**

"Where's Emily? There she is! Where's Emily? There she is!" Sybil cheered, playing peek-a-boo with her daughter. The baby sat in her high chair, staring at her mother strangely.

"Well, she usually gets really happy when we do this," Sybil muttered, turning to look at Matthew's face on her tablet.

He laughed and smiled at Emily. "Another difficult Crawley girl. Lovely."

"Hey, now, she's a Branson, as reluctant as I am to admit it," Sybil snapped. "Anyway, I'm sorry that I got distracted. So you're back in Toronto at the beginning of June, you said."

"Basically filming through to early July. Alex and Anna have their Canada Day party on the 1st, so we'd probably wrap a few days later," he confirmed. "When can you come up?"

"Anytime, really," Sybil shrugged. "Won't you be on set most of the month, though?"

"We're filming downtown, and mostly at night," he replied. "You'd have my flat to yourselves. I could get a crib and put it in the second bedroom. It'll be great."

"Tom wouldn't be able to come up for the entire time, but I wouldn't mind getting away for a bit, yeah," Sybil acknowledged. "Are you sure you don't have some ulterior motive?"

"What other motive would I have besides wanting to spend time with you, Tom and the baby?" he asked, frowning at her.

She smirked. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps you think that constant family time might put my sister in the mood to have your children sometime soon?"

He rolled his eyes. "It will take far more than a few days of family time to convince her of that."

She laughed. "You never know. With me, Edith and Anna all trying to have babies, it could be on her mind."

"I just want to get through to the wedding first. All the rest of it can wait," he nodded.

"Are you sure that this whole directing thing is a good idea, darling? I've heard stories about couples who work together. It can be a nightmare," she mentioned.

He frowned. "What are you talking about? We've worked together before, to great success, I might add."

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, that's true, but you basically had equal billing. You'd be directing her this time."

"I know," he smiled smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "Back to reality, hmm, darling? You know she won't like it."

"Come on, Sybil, she's a professional," he scoffed. "We worked on _Shattered_ before we were dating and everything was great. It's not as if things became better or worse after we got back together. We both focus on the work. It's not as if I'm going to tell her what to do all the time. We'll be working collaboratively. The only difference is I get to yell 'action'. That's it."

"If you say so…" she replied, not at all convinced.

"I should get you to be an errand girl on the production. I'd love bossing you around all day," he frowned.

"Find a nanny for Emily and I might just do it. It'll be a welcome break. I can handle you with my eyes closed," she retorted.

"Sure you can," he deadpanned.

Emily shrieked and slapped her hands on the tray of her high chair, sending her bowl of Cheerios flying on to the floor.

"Emily! Stop it!" Sybil ordered firmly. She shook her head and glanced back at Matthew. "I've got to go. Tell Mary I'll call her later if I can actually get this one to nap."

"Will do. Bye. Love you," he chuckled.

"Love you, too. Bye," Sybil said quickly before grabbing her daughter's hands.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, May 11, 2018**

Mary came into her apartment, closing and locking the door behind her and taking off her Jimmy Choos. She left her bag on the small table in the foyer and wandered through to the living room, the pleasant smell of cooking wafting over from the kitchen. She smiled and headed over, stopping in the doorway to observe the scene.

Matthew had his back to her, standing at the hob stirring away. His white tank-top revealed the muscles of his shoulders and arms. Her eyes wandered down to his cute butt framed by the board shorts he was wearing, before lingering on his sculpted bare calves. For a moment, she just watched him cook, a smile on her face. It was so simple, this snapshot of their life together – she coming home to him looking gorgeous and cooking their dinner. Neither of them were working at the moment. There were no commitments or duties to attend to tonight. With daylight stretching into the early evening, they would probably eat out on the terrace, maybe go for a walk later. At this moment, nothing else mattered except for the two of them. Money, career prospects, wedding planning, where they would live, how many children they might have, none of it was important.

"Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to help?" he asked, not bothering to turn his head to look at her, though his tone showed he was smiling.

She laughed and stayed where she was. "It depends. Take off those shorts and I'll see."

He chuckled and glanced back at her over his shoulder. "Get the dishes out and set the table outside. You can get my shorts off later."

She rolled her eyes and came over to him, spanking him lightly before wrapping her arms around him from behind. "Spoilsport."

He turned his head and kissed her quickly before she released him and went over to the cupboard. "How was your lunch?" he asked.

"Good. We went to Hélène Darroze. Such a beautiful space," she answered. "The weather was so nice today that I spent the afternoon shopping and just enjoying being outside. I had a lovely chat with Sybil and Edith from the rooftop of Printemps."

He smiled and nodded.

She fetched the soup bowls, plates, and cutlery and carried them out to the terrace.

He dipped the wooden spoon into the broth and tasted it. Licking his lips, he drew another spoonful when Mary came back into the kitchen.

"Here, taste," he ordered, holding up the spoon.

She glanced at it for a moment before having a taste. "Mmm, that's not bad at all," she nodded.

He smiled and put the spoon down. Going over to the counter, he poured the dressing over the salad and tossed it lightly.

"French Onion soup, spinach salad, and?" she asked.

"Chicken with a slightly spicy tomato sauce," he answered. "Go on and freshen up. It all should be ready in a few minutes."

She smiled and left, going down the hallway, through the bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom. Washing her hands, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, looking herself over appraisingly. Deciding that her hair and make-up were fine, she put some moisturizer on her face and arms. It was always a struggle to make sure her pale skin didn't tan or freckle in the sun. Pleased with her look, she was about to leave when she noticed one of her bottles of perfume on the counter.

"Matthew Crawley, you are getting so much action tonight," she smirked, arching her eyebrow as she dabbed a few drops on her cleavage before heading back to the terrace.

* * *

"I want you to finish in my mouth," she drawled, licking his face as she rolled her hips against his. "I want to swallow all of it."

"Oh God, Mary!" he groaned, his hands tightening on her hips, their rhythm quickening, the lewd sounds of her riding him filling their ears. "Fuck."

"Oh, please, give it to me, darling," she moaned, his grip forcing her to take all of him on every plunge. "I want to taste you. I want you to watch me take it all."

He grunted with every thrust, her words making his blood boil. She squeezed him, fondling her breasts and moaning loudly. His movements grew more desperate, the sight of her astride him and her lewd cries driving him delirious with lust.

"Watch me. Watch me, Matthew," she gasped.

He groaned as she lifted off of him and moved to his side, his body suddenly cold from the loss of her, she kissed her way down his chest and stomach, turning and bending over him so he could see her naked profile. He reached out a shaking hand and squeezed her ass as she took hold of him and lowered her head between his legs.

"Mary," he babbled, his eyes wide as he watched her take him in.

She moved slowly at first, teasing him with her tongue before moving more enthusiastically.

"Give it to me," she hissed, raising up for a moment before sealing her lips around him and moving faster.

He breathed raggedly and pulled her closer to him, sinking his fingers inside of her centre.

She moaned around him, not stopping, her mind reeling at the thought of the both of them going over at the same time.

"Oh God, Mary, I love you. I love you so much," he growled, trying to hold back, wanting to give her the same overwhelming bliss she was giving him.

Their eyes met and she kept her mouth around him. Her fingers ghosted over and massaged him, her mouth and hand applying extra pressure all at once.

He yelled out and let go.

Her hum of triumph became a cry of pleasure when he pressed on her spot and sent her flying. Both of them shook with their release, hanging on to each other as they rode out the wonderful spasms coursing through them.

When her breathing settled a bit, she smoothed her hair away from her face, keeping her eyes on him. Arching her eyebrow playfully, she trailed her tongue along his length, cleaning him thoroughly.

He brought his fingers up to his lips, making sure she was watching. Giving her a devilish smile, he licked them slowly, savouring her taste on his skin. They remained like that, silent and still, talking with teasing eyes and playful smiles, both of them high from their rapturous lovemaking.

* * *

"Mmm, that was incredible," he chuckled, lying down and stretching out in bed, waiting for her to join him.

She smiled and shook her head, slipping into her boy shorts and checking her hair one last time before coming out of the bathroom. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Didn't you?" he asked, looking up at her mischievously.

She rolled her eyes and came to bed, sliding under the duvet and settling against his shoulder. "Yes, it was very good. Wonderful, even."

He smiled smugly and kissed the top of her head. "Just imagine, if you come to Toronto, we can do this all the time, even on set."

She laughed and slapped his chest lightly. "So you're going to be one of those directors, are you? Sleeping with your lead actress during filming?"

"Are you saying that's a thing? Do you know many of them, then?" he joked.

"No, I haven't had the pleasure as of yet, though I did hear a rumour about a producer and the actress Mabel Lane Fox," she replied.

He chuckled. "That's not very nice of you."

"Considering the hardship she's caused me, it's the very definition of nice," she muttered. "Anyway, I don't want to think about her."

"I agree. Let's think about us, being in Toronto together for the summer, and all the delights that would involve," he replied, kissing the top of her head.

She raised her head and kissed him lightly. "Darling, please don't be upset with me, but I think I'm going to accept Paul's offer and do his movie."

He frowned slightly. "What?"

"I just think it will be best to do another film with him," she explained. "I've built up a lot of good momentum with the first two. The third one would be when it all comes good."

"Darling, I've made commitments on my financing. I can't put off starting in June," he protested. "They're expecting a finished film to be delivered by July."

"I know, and I don't want you to delay because of me," she answered. "You've worked so hard on putting this all together. Go and do it and come back here afterwards."

He stared at her in confusion. "You know that I wrote this script for both of us. It's supposed to be you playing the female lead. I'll have to try and find someone else in less than a month."

She rolled her eyes. "Darling, please. You'll find someone else to fill that spot easily enough. You need to focus on making sure it all goes smoothly, with no delays or problems. Having me in the production would probably be quite distracting. You must admit that you tend to think of other things when we work together."

"My focus was perfectly fine the last time," he retorted. "What's the real reason you don't want to work with me?"

"It's not that I don't want to work with you," she frowned. "I evaluated both options and decided Paul's was the better choice. It doesn't mean your movie is bad."

"No, just not as good as Paul's," he grumbled.

"Darling, please don't be like this," she complained. "Look at it from my position – Paul is an established director, one that I've worked with before and am comfortable with. The movie is told completely from my character's perspective, and the role is wonderfully complex. Jean-Paul is fully funding it, including the marketing and distribution. If you were facing the same choice, wouldn't you do the same?"

"No, no I wouldn't," he stated. "Your goal is get back to Hollywood, Mary, not spend the rest of your career toiling away in France. How does appearing in yet another French film with no North American exposure help you towards that objective?"

"You're hardly one to talk when you don't even have the money to release your film yet!" she bit back. "The key is to keep working. This will give me three films by the end of the year. Plenty of people will see them, even if they aren't released widely in the States. I'm bound to get a good push from that."

"As opposed to the nothing you'll get from being in my obscure directorial debut, you mean," he snapped.

"My God, must everything be about you?" she sat up and glared at him. "I've made what I believe is a well thought out decision for my career. This is the time when you are supposed to be supportive of it."

"How can I support you when you're making a colossal mistake?" he demanded.

"A colossal mistake? You've got a nerve!" she said coldly.

"And you don't respect me," he accused. "You'd rather cast your lot with the arrogant ass who hates America and thinks he's God's gift to filmmaking. Meanwhile, no one outside of France and the Scandinavian countries even knows who he is, or cares, for that matter."

"Do you hear yourself?" she demanded. "Paul's directed more movies in the last six months than you have in your entire life! It's ludicrous to even compare yourself to him. And besides that, of course I respect you! How can you even question that?"

"Quite easily in light of this decision," he maintained. "You're quite happy to act alongside me when it's convenient, but you don't believe I have the ability to carry a film. The real reason you aren't choosing my project is that it depends too much on me and my wits, and that's a bet you're not prepared to make."

"You still haven't carried a film!" she groaned. "I told you so many times to just look for another project and hold off on doing something of your own so soon, and you refused to listen! Far more established actors have tried their hand at directing and fallen flat! Now, you're forging ahead, and that's your right. I support you in that decision, and I respect it, but don't expect me to just commit to anything you choose to do. That's not how it works!"

"Clearly," he shook his head, looking away.

"If I told you that I was weighing two roles – one with an established director that I've already worked with, and another with a novice directing his first film, you would tell me to go with the first one, and don't you dare deny it!" she stated firmly.

"I should think that you should give further consideration to the fact that the so-called novice is me!" he snarled.

"So you would rather I just throw caution to the wind and follow you because you're my fiancé? Honestly, darling, that's just not being practical. I can't allow my feelings for you to enter into my analysis of what is the right move to make, and I wouldn't expect you to do so, either," she continued.

"But that's precisely what I do," he noted, glaring at her. "I've read two dozen scripts since I wrapped on _The Disciple_ last year. I didn't go with any of them, and how long I would be separated from you was a factor, not to mention that I wanted to work with you again."

"Yes, but we're only talking about a month that you'll be away now," she countered. "It's not as if I'm committing to a film that will take me away from you for six months. When you get back, I'll be here, and once I'm done, we'll be married."

"If you came with me to Toronto, we wouldn't be apart at all," he fired back, snorting and looking away.

She sighed in exasperation. Frowning at him for a moment, she reached forward and caressed his face, drawing his attention.

"I love you, you petulant fool," she reminded him, her voice softer. "I'm sorry if you're hurt by this, and I'm sorry if you see it as me choosing another project over you, but I already told you – I won't allow anyone else to dictate what I do in my career, and that includes my future husband. Now, there's very little downside to this decision for both of us. It's the right move for me. Please try and at least respect my choice, even if you don't agree with it."

He huffed in frustration before taking her hand and rubbing it with his fingers. "Well, since you put it that way, I'd be a chauvinistic idiot to deny you have the right to choose your own path. I don't agree with your choice, not one bit."

"But?" she coaxed him with a smile.

"But…it is your choice to make," he admitted. "I do respect your right to make decisions on your own career. I suppose I should be glad you at least weighed the benefits evenly. Your aunt Rosamund would have just disregarded my film straight away."

She smiled and kissed him, despite his reluctant response. "There's my fiancé. I'm not saying we'll never work together again. It's just that I don't feel it's the right time at the moment. I appreciate you wanting to help me, and to create this project for the both of us, but you have to understand that I can't just agree to do something simply because you're involved. I like your script, I do. I just feel more comfortable with Paul's film. It isn't about working with you or not. There's more to it than that."

"Very well. However, if my movie ends up soaring to great acclaim, I won't be sorry for you missing out," he stated. "Not one bit."

She smiled. "If that happens, I shall be at your side as a proud and supportive wife. And, I'll certainly be more convinced of your skill as a writer and director. I'll join the ranks of all the other actresses dying to be in your next film."

"Fine, though I should warn you, as punishment, you might have to audition for the next one," he said pointedly.

She laughed and snuggled against him. "I'm not worried. I have much experience performing for you."

He snorted and held her close, grudgingly ending their conversation as they both fell asleep.

 **Grand Hyatt Cannes H** **ôtel Martinez** **, Cannes, France, May 20, 2018**

Mary allowed a slight smile to cross her face as the camera flashes went off all around her. The French Riviera seemed transformed from the time that she and Paul were in Nice just a few short months ago. The Cannes Film Festival had taken over the area. The usually quiet seaside refuge of the rich was now packed with celebrities and their entourages, and mobs of fans and moviegoers who were here to see them. It was far busier and louder than the last time they visited.

Upon accepting the lead in _Duplicity_ , Paul's latest film, Mary was told that she would be going with him to Cannes. It came as a shock, both in that she had never been to the renowned Cannes Film Festival before, and she thought she would have the rest of the month to spend with Matthew before he left for Toronto. Telling him she was spending a few days in the South of France for work wasn't particularly enjoyable, but he gave her a gruff 'fine' and they moved on. Their somewhat tense exchanges of late were set aside now as she walked past the throngs in her Yves Saint Laurent dress. She couldn't worry about him at this moment. It was time to perform.

The French could do lavish galas as well as anyone, and Paul was taking her to a private event tonight at this opulent hotel to keep her and his films in the spotlight. _Orlena_ was not yet ready to be unveiled to the world, and so this was more a promotional trip for them than anything else. She wondered if she would experience anything close to the bizarre party at the private villa the last time she was in Nice. Paul wasn't letting on, but it seemed that they were sticking to more festival and industry-related apperances.

"This festival has been going on for 70 years, and has never been more popular," Paul noted as they walked through the extravagant lobby and along the plush carpet towards the ballroom. "Even the Americans come. Why is that, do you think?"

She smiled at him. "Everyone wants to be in Cannes. It's still held in the highest regard. When one thinks of glamorous film festivals, they think of here."

"Exact," he nodded. "Big deals are still closed here, big movies still premiere here. It shows you that we are still important, no? It shows you that there is a world beyond your Hollywood."

She laughed. "I never doubted it."

They came into a lavish ballroom, the vast chamber already buzzing with hundreds of guests and the din of conversation and laughter. Champagne arrived promptly and they soon joined a circle of Paul's industry acquaintances. She smiled and nodded, answering questions pleasantly and letting Paul take the lead for the most part. It was so refreshing to feel as though she was part of the elite here, rather than be ignored in Hollywood, or be reduced to just Matthew's fiancée. She was part of Paul's inner circle of preferred actors now, and as he spoke confidently about his expectations for _Orlena_ , and how excited he was to start on _Duplicity_ , he was talking about her, about projects that he would relying on her to carry. It was intoxicating to receive so much attention.

 _'You will be very impressed. Marie shifts through three significant relationships and plays each of them in a different way. It's entirely captivating.'_

 _'I thought The Muse was very well done, and you were very good in it. I admit that I wasn't very familiar with your work before, but I found the different moods you showed as Lily to be so true to life.'_

 _'Whether the film is in French or English, the main language is the emotion shown by the characters. Paul is a master of bringing that out.'_

 _'I love that title – Duplicity. It suggests so many possibilities…'_

She leaned against Paul, sharing a knowing smile with him as they moved through the ballroom, meeting more and more of his friends and colleagues. He had complete command of the room and she followed, thrilled that he had brought her here.

* * *

"Here you are. I'm glad that Paul brought you."

Mary turned and smiled, her eyes bright as Jean-Paul approached her. She kissed him on both cheeks and hugged him warmly.

"Hello! Why am I not surprised to find you at an exclusive party in the heart of the festival?" she teased.

"I like to keep an eye on my investment, and look out for more opportunities," he replied smoothly.

"Am I so easily forgotten? You've already moved on to the next project with some pretty young thing to finance?" she asked.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I haven't moved on from you, but I needn't be concerned about you. I am confident that you and Paul will deliver as expected."

She arched her eyebrow at him. "I usually strive to exceed expectations."

"I would very much like to see that," he nodded.

She sipped her drink. "Will we be seeing you in Paris next month? We start filming shortly. Or, do you trust us enough to not bother checking in until the movie comes out?"

He smiled. "Paul prefers to be left alone, as you know. However, I will be in Paris, yes, so you will see as much of me as you wish."

"I'm glad to hear it," she nodded.

"As for the here and now, come," he smiled, holding his hand out to her. "I will teach you how to dance."

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Teach me how to dance? I don't know what your impressions of the English are, but I assure you that I was properly taught in dance."

"We shall see," he chuckled, taking her hand and leading her over to the dance floor.

"So, is this where you're supposed to impress me with a sly tango, or an elegant quickstep?" she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Those are quite old fashioned," he smiled. "Next you'll be suggesting we form a quadrille."

She laughed as he began leading her in an easy waltz, not quite traditional, guiding her about the floor, his one hand warm against the small of her back, his other hand grasping hers.

"It's a wonder that I've never seen you at Cannes before," he remarked. "You fit in here, as if you belong."

"Perhaps you have. There are so many actresses here, aren't there?" she replied.

"I would have remembered, rest assured," he nodded.

She smiled. "Well, I suppose I never had reason to come here, or an invitation. I worked in North America for years. My films didn't play here."

He smirked. "I would say then that you were in the wrong films."

"Maybe. The past is over with, regardless," she answered.

"And how do you feel about your present and future?" he enquired.

She arched her eyebrow as they danced. Jean-Paul was older than she was, but younger than Paul, and far more modern in his approach to both business and life. An ally as rich and influential as him would serve her well, no matter where she decided to ply her trade after this next film.

"I never bother with predictions, but I'm quite optimistic, which is already a small victory," she mused.

"As am I," he agreed, continuing their dance.

* * *

"Paul, you never cease to amaze me," she told the director in French. "Your newest actress is delightful."

Paul smiled and sipped his drink, watching as Jean-Paul turned Mary around the dance floor to another song. "She is very talented."

"And very beautiful," she noted. "The exact image of an English aristocrat."

" _Marie_ can wear many faces," Paul noted. "These three films will show that. I am confident she can adapt to numerous roles."

"And you think that my clients can benefit from her flexibility?" she questioned.

He smiled and nodded. "She cannot be forgotten, no matter what guise she may take on."

She nodded, considering his words. "Her look would be greatly coveted in Asia. She would stand out, as would the products associated with her. Do you hold her image rights? I was told she is repped by CAA?"

"Her image rights remain her own, but I believe she would be open to new opportunities. You're welcome to go through her agents, if you prefer, but we both know they tend to make things more complicated, don't they?" he answered.

"Greedy monsters," she muttered. "Still, what assurances can we have that she will remain once her star rises once more? Surely her people will steer her back to America?"

He grinned. "She is not meant to go back. It is here that she will shine brightest, and she is beginning to see that. Here, she is not another face. She does not need their money. Soon, she will not need their publicity machine, either."

"You think you've found her at last, do you? The woman who you will shape as you wish, to build up into a success, untouched by Hollywood?" she asked.

"She is unique. That is all I will say," he allowed.

"Well, if you can steer her towards working for us, I would be inclined to recommend her, on our usual terms, of course," she smiled.

"Bon," he nodded, sipping his champagne.

 **Champions League Final, NSC Olumpiyskiy Stadium, Kiev, Ukraine, May 26, 2018**

 _'¿_ _Cómo no te voy a querer?_ _¿_ _Cómo no te voy a querer? Si fuiste campéon de Europa por duodécima vez!'_

Matthew looked across the stadium and frowned at the some 40,000 football fans dressed in the trademark white jerseys of Real Madrid. They were clapping and chanting, dancing and singing, loud and boisterous now, with good reason. Their team was leading Matthew's beloved Manchester United 2-1 late in the second half of the Champions League Final. Less than twenty minutes separated them from winning an unprecedented third consecutive European championship, and a record thirteenth overall.

The United support attempted to fight back with some of their own well-known songs, but there was no real passion behind their effort. Though their deficit was a single goal, Madrid had dominated the proceedings to this point and it appeared that United was headed for an inevitable loss.

"This has not gone at all the way I hoped," Mary complained, sighing as she watched Madrid steal possession of the ball in midfield yet again.

"You and about 30,000 others here, hundreds of millions more around the world," he grumbled, leaning on the rail in front of them. They had box seats, safely removed from the irritable mob below. At first, he was disappointed that they wouldn't be sitting among the true fans, but now he was glad they were up here. United fans were generally well behaved, even in defeat, but tempers would be short and the crowd here was filled with men who were much bigger than Mary. Better to not be among the disgruntled masses as they queued up to leave the stadium.

He turned and looked at her, a slight smile cutting through his frustrated expression. When she surprised him last week with coveted tickets to tonight's match, he was stunned. The Champions League Final was the most watched sporting event of the year, dwarfing even the American Super Bowl. Getting tickets was near impossible, even for celebrities. They had watched Manchester United defeat Barcelona in the semi-finals at a Paris bar full of British ex-pats weeks ago. He had yelled, groaned, gasped and cheered all match, finally jumping to his feet and celebrating when United won, lifting Mary off the floor and spinning her around. After enduring that, he never would have thought she'd actually want to go to see a match live with him.

Not only had she surprised him with tickets, she even went out and bought a United jersey to wear to the match, and painted the team's colours on her cheek and put red and white ribbons in her hair. The shirt was quite form-fitting, and gave him all manner of ideas, even now with his team losing.

"Thank you," he smiled, pulling her close and kissing her softly. "Even though United have been shit tonight, I am having a great time. I'm so glad you're here with me."

"Well, there was no way that I was going to stay in Paris while you and Alex had your fun," she smirked, kissing him back. "I'm just sorry that Madrid have ruined your evening."

"They're a great side, to be fair, and the two-time defending champions," he reasoned. "It was a bit of a miracle that United even made it this far, if I'm honest."

"Goodness, don't tell me you're actually becoming logical when it comes to your beloved football team?" she joked.

"God, I hope not," he sighed. "Where would the fun be in that?"

She laughed and hugged him. "I'm really going to miss you, you know. I know that our being apart for a month is really all my doing, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it."

"I know," he nodded, kissing her lightly. "I'm going to miss you, too. I just hope you'll find time in your busy schedule for the odd chat over the next month."

She laughed and nodded. "Every night. You can count on it. I have a duty to attend to my fiancé's needs, don't I?"

He grinned. "You know that by 'chat' I mean video chat, don't you?"

She smirked knowingly. "Obviously. I may even have some new outfits just for these private chats of ours."

He blinked. "Well, I'm still in Paris for a few more days. Perhaps you'll model some of them for me before I leave?"

"Perhaps," she smiled. "I'll have to see."

They both turned to the field below as a roar came from the crowd. All eyes were on the United end of the field, where Madrid's star player, Cristiano Ronaldo, was getting ready to take a penalty kick.

"Well that's bloody perfect," he whinged, shaking his head.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Maybe he'll miss?"

"It's Ronaldo. He doesn't miss," he huffed.

She watched as the Madrid star sent the United keeper one way and blasted the ball into the opposite corner of the net, making the score 3-1 and effectively clinching the title. Ronaldo celebrated by taking his jersey off and posing for the fans, his chiselled torso shown on the massive video board.

"Well, it hasn't been all bad," she remarked, smiling as she ogled the fit athlete.

He rolled his eyes and pulled her back into his embrace. "Everyone loves a winner."

She laughed and hugged him tight, swaying back and forth. They didn't pay any attention to the remaining minutes, and when the referee blew his whistle to signal the end of the match, they remained in hold, kissing lightly and savouring the feel of each other as the Madrid players celebrated on the field.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, May 30, 2017**

Anna crawled across the bed and snuggled up against her husband's sleeping form. She burrowed her head into the crook of his shoulder, breathing in his scent, her hand sliding over his chest and stomach.

"Mmm," Alex hummed lazily, his eyes still closed. "Hey, love."

"Do you remember the last time you left me to go back to Toronto?" she asked, kissing his neck lightly.

He frowned. "You mean when we got in that fight?"

"Mmm hmm," she nodded. "I hate it when you leave. I'm not in my right mind without you."

"So come with me," he suggested, smiling, his hand moving up and down her back.

"I can't. Mary starts filming this weekend," she whinged.

"So quit," he replied. "It's not as if you need the money."

"Stop," she scolded him, slapping his chest lightly. "I don't work for her for the money."

"Do you honestly believe she wouldn't survive without you?" he asked.

"Honestly? Yeah. Yeah, I do," she admitted.

He chuckled. "You're probably right."

"You'll be back next week, yeah?" she asked softly.

"For the millionth time, yes," he answered patiently. "I'm just going to get Matthew settled, check on the house and drop into the office. I'll be here when you get home from work on Wednesday night."

"Good. Wednesday is the start of my window," she smiled.

"Is that why you want me back so badly? I could leave you some samples you can use, if that's more efficient," he joked.

"Not on your life," she declared, moving her hand down to grope him through his shorts. "I want it straight from the source."

"Anna Smith, who taught you how to talk like that?" he exclaimed in mock disapproval.

"You did," she pointed out. "And you taught me far more than talking. And, it's Anna Lewis, for your information."

He laughed and turned on to his side, kissing her lightly and linking his fingers with hers. "Everything's going to be fine, love. You'll be so busy with work that the time will fly by. You can go out to the pub with Edna and have all the Brits buy you drinks."

"Shut up. I might go out with her, but I won't be accepting anything from anyone. I've learned my lesson, thank you," she huffed.

He chuckled and kissed her lightly. "Since when did you turn into one of those wives who doesn't take advantage of her husband being away to have a bit of innocent fun?"

"Since I found out that not all fun can be so innocent," she replied, reaching up and stroking his face. "I will go out, and dance, and enjoy myself, but I'm going to make it very clear to anyonw who tries to flirt with me that I am a happily married woman and I'm not looking for anything else."

He covered her hand with his. "I heard that. Love, I'm not going to do any partying without you, either. I'll probably have dinner and drinks with Matthew, but that's it."

She smiled and nodded. "I never have cause to worry about you. Women drool over you all the time and you don't even notice."

"Drool. Yeah, right," he frowned.

"I'm going to stay over at Mary's until you get back," she nodded.

He smirked. "That's a good idea, but you really don't have to. You're perfectly safe here."

"I know, but I'd rather not be here alone. It just doesn't feel right," she shrugged.

He smiled and kissed her again. "Whatever you need to do to feel comfortable is fine with me. Although you'll have to be quiet on our calls, then."

She smiled. "Relax. Mary's guest room is on the other side of the apartment. I'm sure that I won't want to hear what she gets up to on her calls with Matthew, either."

"Good," he nodded. "I know I won't be showing much restraint on my end."

She shook her head. "Oh, before I forget, there's a bunch of things from the house that I want you to bring back with you."

He laughed. "Sure there is. Send me your list. I have other things on my mind at the moment."

"Insatiable," she giggled, arching her back as he kissed his way down to her breasts.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, May 30, 2017**

"Matthew?"

"Yes?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course."

"No, honestly."

"Honestly, I trust you. Completely."

"Do you really? Or is it that you've learned to expect the worst of me?"

Matthew finally opened his eyes, frowning as he adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom. A shaft of silver moonlight snuck in through the gap in the curtains, lighting up Mary's face enough for him to see the look of concern.

"What in God's name are you talking about?" he asked, his voice heavy with sleep, his brow creased more in confusion than annoyance.

"You saw the photos of me in Cannes, smiling and laughing and hanging on to Paul, and dancing with Jean-Paul. It's sort of what I did with Henry before, though not to the same degree. Why doesn't it bother you?" she asked.

"It does bother me," he nodded. "I'd rather you not do it, if that's what you mean."

"Yes, but it doesn't bother you enough to get angry about it, or to scold me over it, or to forbid me from doing it again. You don't even mention it," she noted. "Are you just resigned to it? Do you think that that's who I am? Selfish and disrespectful?"

"No, I don't think that's who you are," he replied. "I know that's not who you are. You're just trying to promote yourself, playing a role, like any other."

"Right, but it still looks as though I enjoy…" she continued.

"Darling, I honestly don't care about how things look," he chuckled. "From the time we were teenagers, I've known that men admire you, even covet you. I can't say I don't mind any of it, but it's not worth arguing over. I trust you because I know you, the real you. The world can have their version of Mary Crawley. Mine is the true Mary, the one that no one else knows, and I trust that Mary completely."

She smiled and kissed him, her hand caressing his face as she kept her lips on his for several moments.

"Do you remember when you accused me of not respecting you?" she asked.

He frowned. "We don't need to bring that up again."

She shook her head. "No, I know that you were angry when you said it, but really, darling, the truth is that I don't just respect you. I admire you. You're fearless and brave in a way that I can never be."

He scoffed. "What? That's not true."

She smiled wanly. "Yes, yes it is. You don't let yourself become affected by what other people think or say. You don't think about your image when you make decisions or wonder what impact your choices may have on your status and profile. I wish I didn't care so much about what other people think, but I'm afraid I do. But you don't."

He laughed. "Darling, it's not that I don't care. It's just that when you toil in anonymity for so long, you learn that all you really have to rely on is yourself. I'm useless to anyone unless I stay true to who I am. I don't think about the opinions of others because honestly, I never expect anyone to even have an opinion of my performances. I'm used to just being in the background."

"But you're not, not any longer," she replied. "You're a star, darling."

He chuckled. "I definitely do not see myself that way. And you shouldn't sell yourself short. You deal with pressures and expectations that I've never had to face."

"Maybe. Still, I do admire that in you, Matthew, among other things," she nodded. "Sometimes I wonder if all the extra effort is truly worth it – the promotion and ingratiating myself to all these people. It certainly didn't help when things turned sour."

He nodded. "That's true, but prior to that, you could argue that the success of _Paladin_ was very much due to your interactions with fans and the press. If anything, you probably need to make extra efforts to get noticed now since you're here, rather than back in the States."

"I agree, though I don't necessarily think it's fair," she sighed. "But I do want you to at least understand why it is that I do what I do. I appreciate that it bothers you, and of course, it should."

"I do understand. Part of it is that you like the attention. Most actors do," he shrugged.

She frowned and looked away from him. "I can't deny that, I suppose. If I tried, you wouldn't believe me."

"I don't think I'm truly against anything that you do for work," he continued. "I've seen you in bed with Henry, after all, and there isn't much more abhorrent to me than that. As long as it's all just part of the show, I can deal with it."

"That's all it is," she confirmed, finding his eyes again.

He looked at her closely. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Nothing," she shook her head. "On camera, it's all just acting. Taking meetings, attending events, doing the networking outside of filming, that's part of trying to gain people's interest so the project will be more successful."

"When you smile, and laugh, and flirt with these people, executives, producers, directors, it's just you…doing a duty?" he suggested.

"Exactly," she nodded.

"You don't feel anything," he stated, leaning in and kissing her neck.

"No, nothing," she whispered.

"No thrill of excitement? No rush of adrenaline that you're holding these rich and powerful men in your thrall?" he asked, his hand slipping beneath her camisole and caressing her bare skin.

"It can be a little bit fun," she stammered, her eyes fluttering shut. "But it's not the same as…"

"It's not the same as what?" he asked, licking the spot below her ear while his fingers found her breast.

"As when I'm with you, oh God," she moaned, arching towards him.

"When you're with me, you feel different?" he questioned, his hand moving down her front and playing with the lacy waistband of her panties.

"Yes," she sighed, parting her legs slightly.

"How so?" he asked, kissing a trail back down her neck to her shoulder.

"Because I love you, and I'm going to be your wife, and you…oh…you make me…" she gasped.

"I make you?" he prompted her, his fingers spreading across her, the thin silk of her panties barely separating them.

"You make me so…mmm…" she moaned, turning her head towards him as he pressed his fingers against her intently.

"I see," he growled, smiling as he felt her heat beneath his fingers. "Darling, will you do something for me?"

"Anything," she breathed, kissing his chest.

"Tell me," he ordered. "Tell me again what you told me last night."

She groaned, lifting her hips to make it easier for him to pull her panties down her legs. "You're merciless."

"Tell me," he repeated firmly, his fingers moving along her thigh and sliding against her core.

"I'll miss you," she began, inhaling sharply as he pushed inside of her. "I'll miss coming home to you. I'll miss taking walks with you at night. I'll miss sitting on the terrace and sharing a bottle of wine."

"Tell me," he commanded.

"I'll miss…" she whimpered, bucking her hips as he moved faster. "I'll miss falling asleep in your arms…"

"Tell me," he snarled, his mouth nipping at her neck.

"I'll miss you fucking me," she hissed. "God, you fuck me so good."

He laughed sultrily and gave her a second finger, drawing a ragged moan from her lips. "And when I return?"

"Oh God!" she exclaimed, shutting her eyes tight as he quickened his pace. "I'll do anything you want! Oh fuck!"

"Good," he smiled, casting his dark gaze upon her. He kissed her neck, her cheek, her forehead, finally taking her mouth at the same time as his fingers sent her flying.

She groaned into his mouth, her tongue battling with his as her hips pressed against his hand. He kissed her through her release, moving off of her and slowing his fingers while she gulped in air.

"Mmm, fuck me, darling," she begged, reaching down and taking hold of him. "I want you inside me again."

He grinned and turned onto his back, taking her with him.

She straddled him, her body still shaking. Too weak to sit up, she rested on top of him, raising her hips to allow him access.

"Oh God!" she whimpered, kissing his neck, her arms falling uselessly across his shoulders.

He reached down and spread her legs around him, his hands moving up to cup her bottom as she shifted back and forth, capturing all of him.

"So good," she gasped, licking his face. "Come on, Matthew. Give it to me hard. Make me scream for you."

"Are you sure you can handle it?" he asked, spanking her lightly. "This will be your fifth time tonight."

"I don't care, just do it," she pleaded, grinding her hips against his.

"As you wish," he smiled, squeezing her bottom before he gave her a long, slow thrust.

She yelped and clung to him as best as she could, bracing herself as he moved faster.

 **Nota Bene Restaurant, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 1, 2018**

 _"Oscar winner Matthew Crawley is back in the city. The actor was spotted in Chinatown this week as he gets ready to begin filming his directorial debut, 10 Nights. Since taking home the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor in January, Matthew has been quiet, living in Paris with fiancée Mary Crawley. His next film, The Disciple, from Sony, co-starring Rooney Mara and Sir Ben Kingsley, will have its gala opening at TIFF in September."_

Alex looked up from his tablet and glanced across the table at Matthew.

"What?" Matthew smirked. "You're always saying I have to learn to promote myself."

Alex nodded. "I'm impressed. One phone call to Metro and you got your blurb picked up by The Associated Press and most entertainment websites. Well done."

"If only I could get a studio to agree to release my movie now," Matthew mumbled.

"How about you actually shoot your movie first?" Alex joked. "Now, what's left to deal with?"

Matthew sighed and took a sip of Coke before picking up his phone and glancing at the screen. "I've got all the permits. All the equipment and trailers and everything are booked and paid for. The weather looks decent for the next couple of weeks, and I've got confirmation on the extras, crew and security. I think that's it."

"So you're ready," Alex nodded.

"Oh, what about the tax credits?" Matthew asked.

Alex smiled. "Mrs. Chen told me this morning that you've been approved."

Matthew grinned. "And, of course, you decided not to bother telling me until now."

"I'm here for the financiers, not to be your producer," Alex reminded him. "Besides, I wanted to see if you would remember."

"Thanks," Matthew frowned wryly at his best friend. "I've got a million things in my head. I spoke to Jack. His band is going to do the score and the soundtrack, thank God. If he said no, I had no clue what I was going to do."

"That should work," Alex agreed. "Going to sing on a track or two?"

"No," Matthew shook his head. "That's the last thing I need, one more job to do."

Alex chuckled. "All right, so are we ordering, or what?"

Matthew looked out across the restaurant and smiled. "In a second."

Alex turned and blinked as a pretty brunette, about Anna's height, made her way over to their corner table. She drew the odd stare from the businessmen and tourists who were eating their dinner, but managed to make it over without being sidetracked.

Matthew and Alex stood up to greet their guest.

"Hi," Matthew smiled. "Any trouble finding the place?"

"Nope," she answered, hugging him and kissing him on the cheek. "It was easy with the hotel being just down the street. Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They're beautiful."

"Good, I'm glad. It's supposedly the thing to do – to give your cast presents before filming. It shows how considerate a director I am, apparently. Oh, sorry, this is Alex Lewis, my best friend and the man who got me the financing for the movie," Matthew explained, gesturing to Alex.

"So we have you to thank, then," she smiled.

Alex shrugged and nodded.

"Alex Lewis, Rooney Mara," Matthew introduced his lead actress.

"Pleasure," Alex smiled shaking her small hand. They all took their seats and a waiter came over to pour her a glass of sparkling water.

"So, we know the chef here, and he's going to do a vegan option for you," Matthew told her. "I said you would have the rib steak, but Alex told me that it's not a good idea to make your lead actress violently ill the day before filming starts. Just order whatever you want and he'll make it for you."

She laughed and smiled at him. "Thanks."

Matthew smiled back. "All part of the whole caring director bullshit, you know."

"Right," she agreed. "If the movie ends up sucking, everyone will say it's your fault, so you have to keep us motivated."

Alex laughed and raised his wine glass. "Well, now that we're all here, let's have a toast. To a good shoot and a great movie."

Matthew and Rooney raised their glasses and they all took a sip. The waiter came over and took their orders and they settled into a pleasant conversation, the warm summer night vibrant and alive with possibilities.


	7. Chapter 7

**Previously:**

 **Nota Bene Restaurant, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 1, 2018**

"Alex Lewis, Rooney Mara," Matthew introduced his lead actress.

"Pleasure," Alex smiled shaking her small hand. They all took their seats and a waiter came over to pour her a glass of sparkling water.

"So, we know the chef here, and he's going to do a vegan option for you," Matthew told her. "I said you would have the rib steak, but Alex told me that it's not a good idea to make your lead actress violently ill the day before filming starts. Just order whatever you want and he'll make it for you."

She laughed and smiled at him. "Thanks."

Matthew smiled back. "All part of the whole caring director bullshit, you know."

"Right," she agreed. "If the movie ends up sucking, everyone will say it's your fault, so you have to keep us motivated."

Alex laughed and raised his wine glass. "Well, now that we're all here, let's have a toast. To a good shoot and a great movie."

Matthew and Rooney raised their glasses and they all took a sip. The waiter came over and took their orders and they settled into a pleasant conversation, the warm summer night vibrant and alive with possibilities.

 **Chapter 7:**

 **Private Residence, Trocadéro, Paris, France, June 4, 2018**

"I have a warrant to search this house. We have reason to believe that there are documents and assets located here that are related to criminal activity."

"Criminal activity?" Mary frowned, blocking the front doorway. "My husband isn't home."

"The warrant is not for your husband, Mme Aurier, it is for this property. Stand aside, or I will arrest you for obstruction."

"I want to speak to my husband's lawyer," she declared, holding her head high in defiance.

"Speak to him all you like, while we proceed with our search. Now, move."

She swallowed and snatched the warrant from the inspector's hand, stepping aside to allow him in.

"Go," he ordered, nodding his head for the officers behind him to walk into the house.

She looked down at the floor, frowning as the police entered her home and began searching the rooms. The inspector closed the door, leaving them alone in the foyer.

"How long will this take?" she asked quietly.

"As long as necessary for me to get what I want," he stated.

"You're enjoying this," she accused.

He smiled and took hold of her chin, raising her face to look at him. "Yes. Yes, I am."

She smirked and looked up at him with playful eyes. "Why did you not come alone? You would have enjoyed it much more that way."

He released her and smiled devilishly. "I had to bring the officers with me, Estelle. It would be suspicious to my superiors if I carried out the search by myself. Besides, if I recall correctly, you like the risk of being caught in the act."

She smiled and shook her head. "You won't find anything. Marc is very careful never to bring anything home from his work."

He shrugged. "I expected as much. This is just to let him know we are watching him, that is all."

"And what comes next?" she asked, glancing down the hall to make sure they were not being observed.

"Next, I send the men away when they are finished," he replied. "And I might stay behind to keep watch on the house."

She smiled. "I was going to go shopping until I was rudely interrupted by you and your men. Marc won't be home until this evening."

He nodded. "That leaves you the rest of the afternoon to do as you wish."

"It does," she agreed.

"And cut! Bon!" Paul called from his director's chair. "20 minutes!"

Mary smiled and nodded to Jamie, the actor playing the inspector and headed out the front door and towards her trailer parked down the quiet residential street. Anna met her as she came out, handed her a water bottle and fell in step.

"How was it?" Anna asked.

"Not bad," Mary shrugged. "Paul seemed happy with it. I think we'll do the kissing scene next."

"It seems that's all you've been doing today," Anna smiled.

"Yes, kissing my gangster husband in the morning and my police inspector lover in the afternoon. It's the stuff of dreams, it is," Mary replied wryly.

"At least you were fully clothed," Anna noted as they went into the trailer.

"Yes, that's true. I'm having sex for the next three days straight, it seems," Mary replied, heading over to the small sofa and sitting down.

"The stuff of dreams, it is," Anna joked.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Maybe for some women. I can't get too excited about it considering that a certain blue-eyed blond is an entire ocean away. And yes, I do realize that I could have been sleeping with Matthew on-camera at this very moment had I followed him."

"I wasn't going to say a word," Anna shrugged. "Besides, it's early morning over there. He won't be filming yet."

"Fine. Then I would have been sleeping with him off-camera at this very moment," Mary sighed. "Well, not exactly sleeping, rather."

Anna laughed in commiseration with her friend.

"God, I'm pathetic," Mary grumbled. "I miss him desperately and I just spoke to him last night."

"I'm right there with you, I'm afraid," Anna nodded. "I was texting with Alex when you came out."

Mary laughed and shook her head. "Shit, Anna, what's become of us? They're supposed to be pining for us, not the other way around!"

"They do pine for us, or if you want to actually use a word from this century, they do miss us," Anna smiled. "I've got it easier than you, though, I admit. My man's coming back on Wednesday, and I can't wait."

"Don't rub it in," Mary scoffed, taking out her phone. She scrolled through her photos and stopped at the night shot of her and Matthew dancing beneath the Eiffel Tower. "I may as well give him a bit of an ego boost to start his day."

Anna watched as Mary opened her Instagram and posted the photo.

"Missing this one fiercely," Mary said aloud as she typed the caption. "Happy filming, darling…"

Anna laughed and glanced at her own phone to see Mary's post appear. "Man-crush Monday. Very nice."

"Better to put it up now before I have time to reconsider," Mary joked, putting her phone down and taking another drink of water. "Besides, I've got to remind all of his swooning fans and admirers that he's taken."

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 4, 2018**

"All right, so this is just free flowing dialogue. Say whatever you want, the conversation can go wherever it goes. We'll take it all and edit it later."

Matthew nodded, sitting still as they adjusted the black backdrop behind him and the camera in front of him. The crew moved about his living room. The shoot would be in black-and-white, so they closed the curtains and covered everything in black sheets. He really didn't have time for this. He had a million things to do and very little time to do them in.

The weekend had gone about as well as he could have hoped for. The weather at night was pleasant, making for an easy filming experience. He and Rooney had settled back into the easy rapport they had developed during their last movie together. His film was broken down into ten days and nights in the lives of his characters, and he organized the schedule to go chronologically, so they wouldn't have to change wardrobe and the background as often. His goal was to wrap in a month's time, so every hour was important. It took him a while to get into the routine of giving instructions, acting out the scene, reviewing the playback and going again. Switching from director to actor and back again was jarring at first, but now he thought he had the hang of it. The most difficult part was being drawn away from set for unrelated engagements like this one.

But promotion was important when he didn't have the money to market or distribute his film, so he couldn't say no to this interview, or any others. He even had to put up with Jack filming his annoying "production diaries" each day to try and drum up a following on social media. Rooney hated it, but also put up with it grudgingly.

 _W Magazine_ called when they found out he was back in North America. They had wanted to do one of their _Screen Tests_ features with him since the Golden Globes. Dozens of actors had appeared in the candid question and answer sessions. Rooney did hers in January of last year. A 5-minute video that would be posted online would take at least an hour to shoot, an hour that he really didn't have to spare, but he carved out time anyway, setting aside a small block this morning after breakfast and before he reviewed the previous day's rough dailies. It was strange how he was able to be relatively anonymous back in Europe for the past six months, but the moment he set foot in North America, he was swept up into the whirlwind of the industry once more. It was yet another reminder of how life had changed for him.

The wardrobe person came forward and undid one of the buttons of his shirt, opening his collar a bit more. Armani had supplied his clothes for this interview, which was another reason why he was being pushed to do it now, rather than later. It was good exposure for the fashion brand, and a nice get for the magazine. Hopefully, there would be room somewhere in all of this good PR for him and his movie.

 _"Does your name have any significance?"_

"Matthew Reginald Crawley – my parents actually drilled this answer into me from when I was a young boy, because they wanted me to understand that they didn't just pick my name out of nowhere. So, Matthew means 'Gift from God' in Hebrew. Reginald was my father's name. It's a German name that means 'Powerful ruler'. Now, my parents were religious, but they didn't name me thinking I would be a powerful ruler someday. They named me Matthew Reginald because they wanted me to be a generous person, as a powerful ruler bestows the gifts of the Lord on his subjects, for example. They just wanted me to help people, so they named me Matthew Reginald," he explained.

 _"Nice. Now, we always ask what is your favourite love scene in a movie, of all time? It could be something you thought was really hot, something you thought was beautiful, artistic, tragic, whatever."_

He blinked, staring into the camera lens. "Favourite love scene. Wow. Erm…I don't know. I mean, being British, we tend to just have a proper kiss and fade to black, don't we? There's very little romping around in bed in British films, at least the ones that I watched growing up, anyway. Let's see…actually, you know, I do remember the love scene in _White Palace_ – Susan Sarandon and James Spader. I didn't see it in the theatre, because I would have been about five years old at the time, but I saw it on television when I was a teenager, quite by accident, actually. It's about how she's an older woman, this working-class waitress, and he's this young, upper-class ad executive, or something. Anyway, the love scene itself is quite raw and explicit, but what really struck me was that the next morning, he leaves her in bed and is on his way out, he gets in his car, drives away and everything, but then he goes scampering back and jumps into bed with her with this sort of gleeful enthusiasm. I just remember that so vividly, for some reason – that he had so much fun with this woman, who was so different from him, I mean, they're utter opposites, but he literally couldn't wait to do it again."

 _"Do you cry at movies?"_

"Do I cry watching movies?" he repeated. "No, not really. I cry from laughing sometimes."

 _"You won your Oscar for playing Nico in_ Shattered _. Nico is_ _the other man in an affair with a married woman. What do you think about the idea of stealing a woman away from another man?"_

He frowned slightly. "Well, I should hope that I wouldn't do that in real life, no. I have more respect for the institution than that. The thing about what we tried to portray in _Shattered_ was that this was a woman who wasn't just looking for excitement outside of her marriage, or revenge on her cheating husband. She was someone who hadn't really had love in her life, and she found it under rather unusual and difficult circumstances, but in the end, she doesn't let that stop her from going for it and being happy. As far as portraying infidelity goes, I thought it was quite beautiful, actually, and Mary was fantastic at showing the range of emotions involved, of course. So, I wouldn't say that Nico stole Christina away from her husband. It's more she wanted to leave and found him at the right time."

 _"How has your career changed since winning?"_

"It changed quite a bit just from being in _Shattered_ , actually," he answered. "I've never worked as much as I did this past year, and there's a lot of exciting things coming up for me that I never would have had the chance to do otherwise. But yes, you don't win an Oscar without things changing quite drastically. I'm just grateful for all the opportunities that come, and I have a good support network who constantly remind me that I'm really not all that impressive, so that helps."

 _"And what's next for you? You're in_ The Irishman _for Martin Scorsese coming up."_

He nodded. "Right, I still can't believe I'm in that film. It'll be out when Marty is good and ready, so no worries there. I've got a bit of an action film coming up called _The Disciple_ with Rooney Mara and Sir Ben Kingsley, and I'm directing a movie called _10 Nights_ , again with Rooney Mara, so trying to keep busy."

 _"Do you remember a particularly special birthday_ _?"_

"A special birthday…hmm…" he muttered, stroking his chin. "Actually, my birthday is in the summer, so I always would get quite upset because all of my friends got to celebrate their birthdays at school – they would get the class to sing 'happy birthday' to them and what not – and for me, my friends were usually away on holidays whenever my birthday came around so not many people would show up at my party, and this was devastating for a child, you see. So I would complain to my parents about it every year, as one does. Well, when I was twelve years old, my parents threw me a surprise party at our friends' home in Yorkshire, and there was a massive banner with my name on it, and all these adults were wearing party hats, and all these children from the nearby village came out to see me, even though I didn't know any of them. It was a rather large affair, actually. I had a marvelous time, just being the centre of attention of all of these people in such a big house, and that was the first time that I ever got a kiss from my now fiancée. She didn't really want to, but I think her parents bribed her into doing it, or something, and I think she may have kissed the air around my cheek more than she did my actual cheek, but at the time, it was the best birthday ever."

 _"And did you know back then that you would end up with her?"_

He laughed and shook his head. "Mary wanted very little to do with me back then. I already had a huge crush on her by that time, which is why the kiss was so great for me. I don't know if I properly understood the concept of dating, let alone marriage, when I was twelve. I didn't have any crushes back then, besides her. I was quite a loyal fellow, even at twelve."

 _"Would you ever work together again?"_

"If the right project came along, then sure," he nodded, choosing his words carefully. "We both have a lot going on at the moment with different films that we're doing, so we'll see if, and when that happens."

 _"I guess you'll co-star in the wedding video, so there's that."_

He laughed and nodded. "Right, right. Yes. She'll get top billing in that one, but yes, I'll be in there somewhere."

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Paris, France, June 6, 2018**

Anna came in through the front door and kicked her shoes off.

"Babes? Are you here?" she called eagerly, coming into the living room.

"In here, love," Alex called from the kitchen.

She grinned and put her bag down, heading briskly for the kitchen. She bit her bottom lip and calmed herself for a moment before walking in to greet her husband. "Mmm, what's for dinner?"

"Vermicelli with grilled pork and vegetables," he announced, looking over the pots on the hob one last time before he turned around. "I thought I'd change things up and…"

He blinked in surprise at his smiling wife. "You…your hair."

She nodded, turning her head back and forth so he could see the loose ringlets that fell down to just above her shoulders. "I had the hair people give it a bit of a curl. Do you like it?"

"Yeah," he nodded, coming over to her. "I love it. You look gorgeous."

He reached out and played with her hair before moving his hand to caress her cheek.

She grinned and turned her head towards his palm. "I'm so glad you're back."

He smiled and took her face in his hands, leaning down and kissing her warmly. "I'm happy to see you, too, Mrs. Lewis."

She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him and laughing as he picked her up off the floor. He held her tight and kissed her again and again before setting her back down.

"Smells delicious," she managed, catching her breath and slowly disentangling herself from his hold. She stepped around him and went over to the hob, glancing at the grilled pork and sautéed vegetables. Bowls of delicate rice noodles were set aside on the counter.

He watched as she picked up a spoon and tasted the fish sauce cooling in the small pot.

"Mmm, this might be your best batch yet," she noted. "Is everything almost ready to eat?"

"Yeah," he replied, his voice smooth and low. He came up behind her and took hold of her hips. "All ready for you to have a taste."

She pursed her lips as his hands came around to circle her waist. She lifted her head and looked back at him just as he kissed her.

"Dinner," she whispered against his lips.

He smiled. "Or, we could eat later."

She blushed and kissed him again. "Do you have other plans in mind for me, then?"

"Many," he nodded.

He turned her around and moved her away from the stove, nudging her over to the table and sitting her on top of it. She pulled him in, sliding her legs around his hips and kissing him hard. Her hands quickly undid his shirt and yanked it off his shoulders and down his arms. He threw it to the floor and returned to her, her hands now clutching his bare back.

"Oh God, I've been thinking about you fucking me all day," she breathed, tilting her head to give him full access to her neck.

"Me, too," he snarled, kissing his way up to her ear.

She gasped as he undid her trousers and pulled them off, taking her panties with them. She found the button and zipper of his jeans and forced them open.

"The table won't hold both of us," she warned, moaning as she reached into his shorts and took hold of him.

"Don't need it," he rasped, kicking his jeans and shorts off and picking her up easily.

"Alex!" she groaned, locking her arms and legs around him.

He backed her against the wall, his hands grasping her thighs.

She reached down and guided him to her, crying out as he thrust deep on the first move.

"Fuck, yes!" she called, rocking in his hold as he set a furious pace, driving into her, his breath hot against her shoulder.

She tore at her shirt, finally pulling it free and revelling in the feel of his warm skin against hers, her breasts pressed against his chest.

The rhythmic beat of her back against the wall over and over accompanied her desperate moans and his fierce grunts. She kissed him, crying into his mouth as he drove into her relentlessly.

"Alex!" she shouted as she released, gasping and shaking. "Fuck! Fuck me. Oh yeah, fuck me."

He didn't let up.

A dark thrill coursed through her as she hung on to him, powerless in his hold, spreading herself open to take all of him again and again. As his thrusts grew rougher and deeper, she whimpered and begged, craving his release.

"Anna!" he snarled, pressing against her and letting go.

She cried out, the feel of him filling her setting her off again.

"Love, oh God," he struggled, finally opening his eyes and leaning into her, his hold on her still strong.

"So good," she sighed, her head falling back against the wall.

"Dinner?" he asked.

She laughed tiredly and kissed his cheek. "Shower, first. Then, dinner. After that, dessert, in the bedroom."

He hummed contentedly and stood up straight, carrying her out to the hall and down towards the bathroom.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 8, 2018**

"These unions are going to drive me completely mental," Matthew complained, shaking his head. "They get so many breaks, and everything always has to be checked, double-checked and triple-checked all the time. Whenever it seems we have some good momentum going, there's always some delay or interruption that comes up."

"It's almost as if directing a movie isn't nearly as easy as it sounds," Mary replied, her smug smile crystal clear on his laptop screen.

"Thanks for that," he retorted sarcastically. "Your support is ever unwavering, my darling."

"I'm listening, aren't I?" she noted. "I know it's in your nature to agonize over even the smallest of details, but honestly you need to allow everyone to do their job without constantly looking over their shoulder. Not only is it unproductive, but it's surely to distract you from doing your scenes, and that's all the audience will see – what you do in front of the camera, not behind."

"You're right, of course," he sighed. "It is coming along well, actually, my whinging aside. We're on schedule, too. Barely, but we are."

"Good," she nodded.

"Oh, I stopped by the hotel and said hi to Clarence yesterday. He sends his regards, says he misses you," he smiled.

She laughed. "Dear Clarence. Goodness, I imagine his life is much easier now without all the paparazzi hanging about looking for me."

"He used the term 'boring' actually," he nodded. "I also went and stopped in at Nadège. They miss you there, too."

She smiled, recalling all the places she used to visit in the city. She had spent the better part of six years living in Toronto, and some of the best times of her career and life took place there.

"Have you been out riding much? The weather must be glorious," she asked.

"A few times. Not much. There just aren't enough hours," he shrugged. "Yes, it's been nice and warm here so far. No rain, which has been great for me. What about over there?"

"It's decent. I've been indoors most of the time," she sighed. "Anna and I still go out on our jogs, but Paul's been cracking the whip quite a bit with the call schedule."

"I see. How's that all going?" he asked.

"I spent most of today doing scenes lying on my back in bed," she grumbled. "So, it's going."

He frowned. "I see."

"Next week will be better. I get to shoot a gun," she remarked. "Anyway, I can't really complain. I'm in almost every scene and I go from innocent and shy to savage and bitchy, and everything in between. It's quite the fun challenge."

"Did you check about Canada Day weekend?" he asked.

She arched her eyebrow. "Canada Day? What's that?"

"Not funny in the slightest," he glared at her.

She laughed. "I booked it off already. Anna and Alex are going back a week before. I'll come in on the Friday and the party is on the Sunday. Happy?"

He grinned. "Very much so."

"Well you make sure and wrap your masterpiece by then if you want to spend any time with your fiancée," she said pointedly.

"Our last day is the Friday," he confirmed. "I freed up my entire weekend on the hope that you'd be coming in."

"Well, I'll need to do something to help you fill all that time, then," she teased, smiling at him wickedly.

He chuckled. "I like the sound of that."

She nodded. "I actually have the weekend before off as well. I'm going to head to Downton for a few days and see Mum, take care of some wedding business."

"Oh," he blinked. "Maybe I can meet you there…"

She shook her head. "No, you focus on getting your movie done. Edith's going to come up, so I'll have her for help. I just want a couple of days to myself and have a bit of a break."

"And you think being around your mum and my mother will be relaxing, do you?" he questioned, smirking at her.

She rolled her eyes. "I can handle them. I just want two days where I don't have to think about work and can just enjoy being a bride-to-be. It seems that it's been nothing but one task after another since we got engaged. The day's three months away and it doesn't even feel like I'm getting married. I just want to breathe a bit."

He nodded patiently. "Good for you, darling."

"Right. I just need to make it to that weekend in one piece, now," she complained.

He laughed. "All right, it's late over there and I need to get ready for tonight's shoot, anyway. Good night, darling."

She frowned. "Hang on. You're not going anywhere, yet. Wanting to get rid of me, are you?"

He blinked. "No, not at all. I just thought you'd want to get some sleep. It's nearly midnight over there."

"Don't you concern yourself with what time it is here," she scoffed. "You made a promise to me, and you aren't ending this call until you deliver."

His mouth fell open. "Yes, I did, however…"

"However nothing," she retorted. "Are you a man of your word, or not?"

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "All right. How do you want to do this?"

"Let me get comfortable first before you start your show," she smiled.

He watched her settle into bed, placing her tablet against the pillow next to her – his pillow. She brought the duvet across her shoulders and stretched out, finally smiling and nodding to him.

"All set. You may begin, sir," she ordered. "And do put some effort into it. I want to be impressed."

He huffed and shook his head. Bringing up another window on his computer screen, he cleared his throat before beginning.

"I was homesick during the whole of my first term at St. Peter's…" he recited.

She closed her eyes and listened to his soothing voice as he read her the story, a smile on her face as she slowly fell asleep.

 **Art Gallery of Ontario, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 12, 2018**

"Come on," Rooney smiled, taking his hand and darting off.

Matthew followed her as she led him through the different galleries, going past paintings by Monet and Picasso, and marble sculptures by Bernini. She stopped in a small room no larger than an attic, and brought him over to sit on the bench in the centre.

"This is my favourite room," she nodded, smiling up at the paintings stretching up to the low ceiling. "It's almost like being in someone's house, instead of an art gallery."

He looked all around, taking in the art before turning and looking at her. "Like a place to escape."

She swallowed and looked at him. "Yeah."

"And what are you escaping from?" he asked, his blue eyes locked on hers.

She looked down. "Ghosts of the past, I guess. Unanswered questions."

He nodded in understanding and reached over to take her hand.

She looked at their joined hands, then raised her head to find his eyes once again.

"I think we all have ghosts – friendly and otherwise. A place like this is nice to get away from them, but sometimes, you just have to tell them to go," he said softly.

She glanced at his lips, then back up to his eyes. "And do they listen?"

He smiled. "Usually. Or, I just give them a reason not to hang around."

She swallowed nervously before leaning closer and kissing him. They went slowly at first, their lips barely touching, breathing in the same air, suspended as if they too were a painting, a frozen moment in time.

She moved first, her hand reaching up to touch his face. He reached for her and pulled her close, kissing her back with increasing ardour.

She slid across his lap, straddling him as their kiss deepened. Her hands slipped beneath his shirt, feeling the muscles of his bare back.

"See any ghosts now?" he whispered between kisses.

"Mmm mmm," she answered, shaking her head and kissing him again.

"Ahem."

They both looked up in shock as an elderly female security guard stood in the doorway, glaring at them judgmentally with a wry frown. "Honey, I know it feels cozy up here, but take it outside."

Rooney blushed and stood up, a sheepish smile on her face as she quickly nodded and ran from the room.

"Erm…sorry…" Matthew muttered, following after her.

The security guard turned and watched them go, their laughter ringing out down the hallway.

"And cut! That should be a good one," Matthew called, coming back into the room. He high-fived the actress playing the security guard and made his way over to the monitors to watch the playback.

"What do you think?" he asked, glancing at Rooney as she came to his side.

She smiled as she watched the scene play out. Matthew had arranged for a mobile camera to follow them through the gallery so it seemed as if she was leading the audience by the hand all the way up to the attic room. He used tight shots of both of their faces to capture the dialogue, and multiple angles to film their kiss. It was impressive that none of the cameras got in each other's way during the take.

"Looks good. Do you think we need to go again?" she asked.

He shook his head and smiled. "No, print this one. I can't afford to pay you to run it too many times."

She punched him on the shoulder and laughed.

He stood up and put his arm around her, leading her out of the attic and back downstairs. "All right, take a bit of a break and we'll head to the house for the next scene.

"Which scene are we doing? Are we fighting or fucking?" she asked, smiling at him playfully.

"Both, if we can fit the two scenes in," he answered. "We'll just have to be careful to change clothes so we keep the continuity."

She nodded and followed him downstairs and out to the street where the trailers were parked. It was past midnight and they had the area to themselves, the neon lights of Chinatown a few blocks away, the only other real activity nearby.

"And we're here live on the set of _10 Days_ and I've got a special treat for you guys – I've got the stars of the movie themselves right here!"

Matthew and Rooney shared a rueful smile as they stopped in their tracks and watched Jack approach them with his phone mounted to a selfie stick.

"We have Matthew Crawley, actor, director, producer, caterer, right here," Jack smiled, pointing the camera at Matthew.

"Hi, everyone," Matthew nodded, waving his hand.

"And the beautiful and talented Rooney Mara, playing the part of Josephine. Okay, so Rooney, uh…how's the shoot going?" Jack asked.

Rooney smiled and looked at Matthew for a moment before answering. "Yeah, it's going good. We just shot a funny scene inside the art gallery and now we're switching to a house over here and we're going to shoot a not-as-funny scene, but it'll still be good, hopefully, or probably. I think it will be, anyway."

She put her thumbs up and laughed before taking off down the street towards her trailer.

"And there she goes," Matthew remarked, shaking his head. "Well, yes, we've got a long night ahead of us, so we really appreciate all of you following us and seeing how this production is going. We hope you're enjoying the videos, Jack's doing a great job with them, and the next one is going to be...erm…Jack?"

Jack turned the selfie stick around so that the camera was on him. He came to Matthew's side so that they both were in the shot.

"The next video we are going to be in the studio doing some music, doing some voiceover work, and you might even get to hear this one sing a little bit," Jack joked.

"Erm…no…that's not happening. Anyway, thanks, everyone, and see you soon," Matthew smiled, waving his hand.

Jack ended the live stream and grabbed his camera off the selfie stick. "Nice. That's a good one."

"God, I hope so," Matthew groaned, putting his hands in his pockets and wandering down the street. "I sometimes wonder if any of this is really worth it."

"Well, you had 20,000 people watching that livestream just now. That's pretty good for a non-studio film, and we're getting more and more hits each time we do them," Jack advised.

"Yeah, that's good. Now we just need them all to go and watch the movie," Matthew replied. "If it ever comes out."

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, June 23, 2018**

Mary wandered through the parlour and crossed over into the drawing room. She glanced around the space, stopping before the portrait of Granny that had been hung up after she was last here. Dad had it painted from a photograph. Her hair wasn't completely white yet, streaks of the younger golden brown more predominant. She was sitting with both hands on her cane, more a fashion accessory back then. Her eyes were steely and sharp, her chin raised, lips pursed in a thin line. She appeared regal and elegant, and Mary smiled at how appropriate the pose seemed, how well it captured the woman herself.

"Your father had the artist redo her eyes several times," Isobel called, coming in and joining Mary. "She insisted that it look as though her eyes were following you around the room. I'm biased, of course, but I would say she succeeded."

Mary laughed and shook her head, looking up at the family matriarch. "Classic Granny."

Isobel nodded in agreement. "How are you, my dear? I was pleasantly surprised when your mother told me you were coming up for the weekend."

"Good. Tired," Mary admitted. "I just needed to get away for a few days. I've been working non-stop all year, it seems. Plus, with Matthew in Toronto, there was no reason to stay in Paris."

"You're visiting him next weekend, aren't you?" Isobel asked.

Mary nodded. "Alex and Anna are having their annual Canada Day party so I'll be flying over for that. Hopefully he wraps on his movie in time and he can come back with me afterwards."

"That sounds nice," Isobel replied politely.

Mary pursed her lips and looked down for a moment before turning to her future mother-in-law. "I expect that Matthew must have told you about how I turned down being in his movie. You're probably both disappointed and not surprised by my behaviour."

Isobel smiled kindly. "Not at all. Matthew is very much like his father. He can be quite clingy."

Mary blinked in surprise and covered her mouth, barely succeeding in stopping her laughter from spilling out.

Isobel looked at her knowingly. "I understand, my dear. You want to forge your own path. His movie does sound quite interesting, but I wasn't surprised that you passed on it. You can love him, and be a good wife to him, all without working with him on top of that. Reginald and I had some furious rows over hospital business when we worked together. I sometimes think that spouses should steer clear of each other in their careers."

Mary nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. "Thank you for that. I may end up regretting it, still. He's on a hot streak right now. It seems as if all that he touches turns to gold."

Isobel smiled. "From what your mother tells me, you have a project of your own that you're busy with?"

"Another French film, yes," Mary confirmed. "I am enjoying it, and I think it was the correct decision, but I'm afraid Matthew still sees it as a betrayal, even if he won't admit it."

"It won't be the last time that you disagree, I'm afraid," Isobel smiled knowingly. "Just remember that he loves you, and that you love him, and all will be well."

"I do love him, Isobel," Mary declared firmly. "I love him more than I thought myself capable of loving anyone. I don't show him nearly enough, though. I always tell myself to try harder, but it never seems to come off as well as I'd like."

"He knows, I'm certain of it," Isobel stated confidently. "I assume that when you look at him, you sometimes see the boy that chased after you for so many years, but one thing Matthew does not do is waste his time. He believes in you, Mary. Remember that."

Mary nodded, though a frown crossed her brow. "That's part of the problem, though. You warned me once to not break his heart, and I know now that I would rather die than do that. Yet, I've already disappointed him, and I know that I will again in the future. That's almost worse, isn't it?"

Isobel smiled. "I've felt the same way as you, with Matthew's father. He would look at me as if I was the sun itself sometimes, and it absolutely terrified me. He saw things in me, things that he thought I was capable of, and it was paralyzing to think that someone could believe in me so completely."

Mary looked at her with wide eyes. "Yes, that's it, exactly. If I could be half the woman he imagines me to be, I could rule the world."

Isobel laughed. "It took me some time, but I realized that Reginald still saw me for who I was, faults and all, and loved me for me, rather than some perfect image in his mind. It wasn't even that he wanted me to be ambitious. It was that he believed that together, there was nothing we could not accomplish, and he simply wanted me to see that, too."

Mary nodded slowly. "I fear we're still going to drive each other mad more often than not."

"And so you should," Isobel agreed. "Capitulation, or ambivalence, will lead you nowhere. Continue to be yourself with him, challenge him. That's who he loves. But, every once in a while, allow yourself to have a silly dream or two, as he does. You might find that you enjoy it."

Mary laughed and took Isobel's hands, squeezing them in thanks.

"Mary, Isobel," Edith called from the doorway. "Mum has the different seat covers ready for you to look at."

"How lovely," Isobel replied, giving Mary a knowing look and heading off.

Mary shook her head and followed. She had only been back at Downton for a few hours and she already felt much better.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 25, 2018**

"So you can see in the mock-up what the colours for the backdrop will be. We'll have spotlights on the floor placed every few metres. The video screens on either side stay down at the beginning, then draw back up and out of sight during dinner."

Anna nodded, reviewing the design on her tablet screen before looking up at Mary's image on the television on the wall. "You're not going to have your initials inside of a heart, or something like that on the backdrop?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Ha ha. Not only would that be tacky, but we have the same initials, which would make it far worse."

Anna laughed. "That's what we should have used for your logo! 'MC-squared' or 'MCx2'."

"I would actually wring your neck if you did that," Mary promised.

Anna laughed. "Only joking. All right, that covers everything, I think. What else have you been doing besides wedding planning? I hope that's not all you've done."

"It's been fantastic here, really. Edith and I went for a run this morning. We did 10K as if it was nothing, didn't see a car the entire time," Mary recounted.

"How is Edith?" Anna asked.

Mary smiled. "Not pregnant yet, if that's what you were wondering. With Bertie traveling so much for work, they haven't had much time together. She's not worried, though."

"That's good," Anna replied. "Nothing good comes from worrying."

Mary nodded. "I expect she'll make a bigger effort soon. Once she can be certain she won't be showing at the wedding, all bets are off."

Anna laughed and shook her head. "Surely she can't be concerned about that!"

"Edith thinks of things like that, trust me," Mary rolled her eyes. "She's very happily married, but that doesn't mean she doesn't want to look her best at my wedding. She's still bothered that Bertie's drunken mates hit on Sybil and me at hers."

"Oh God, that lot? They were horrid!" Anna squealed. "She's lucky that she didn't have to put up with any of that."

Mary laughed. "They were quite disgusting, yes, but she still would have enjoyed the attention. Anyway, I'm not expecting an heir for Lord Hexham until at least next May."

"Probably will happen before there's an heir to the Lewis fortune, that's for certain," Anna sighed.

"None of that, now. How are you? How's the house?" Mary asked.

Anna smiled. "Alex had it cleaned thoroughly before we arrived, of course. That didn't stop me from deciding that the living room needed to be reorganized. I've had him moving furniture all night."

"You taskmaster," Mary joked. "All right, I've got to go. I'll see you this weekend. Are you sure that you're all right with Sybil and Tom bringing the baby with them?"

"Of course," Anna assured her. "Maybe having a baby around will make Alex behave."

"I wouldn't put it past him to toss you in the pool all the same," Mary smiled.

"Neither would I," Anna grumbled. "Have a safe flight."

Mary waved and signed off the video call.

"All right, I've moved the couch to where the loveseat used to be, I moved the loveseat to where the recliner was, I moved the recliner to where the couch was, and I moved all the tables around like you wanted," Alex wheezed, coming into the room. "Go on and take a look."

Anna smiled and got up from the sectional. She wandered over to the living room and examined the new layout carefully. Alex came up behind her and observed, praying she would be satisfied with it.

"The problem is that now the shelves are in the wrong place," she noted.

His head dropped. "They're built-ins, so unless you want me to have the walls torn down, they aren't changing."

"If we were to knock out this wall, that would open up the space more," she mused.

He groaned. "And it would probably cause the house to collapse."

"Not if you put a beam above to spread the load," she replied, looking up at the ceiling. "Hmm."

He shook his head in exasperation.

"I'll have to think it over," she declared finally. "For now, good job, babes."

"Thank the Lord," he whispered, closing his eyes and exhaling in relief.

She laughed and turned to him, putting her arms across his shoulders and drawing his gaze. "It wasn't so bad, was it? What's the use of having such a strong man for my husband if I can't put all these bulging muscles to work?"

His hands took hold of her waist. "You're going to tell me to put it all back the way it was tomorrow, aren't you?"

She smiled mischievously. "Maybe. I'll decide in the morning."

He grunted in protest.

She laughed and kissed him lightly. "All right, babes, why don't we go have a soak? You can soothe all those tired muscles of yours."

His face lit up.

She drew him down to whisper in his ear. "I'll even give you a very special massage. I've already drawn the bath, and there's candles, and oil…"

He swallowed. "Yeah, that would be good."

"Let me take care of you, babes. I know just what will make you feel all better," she said, licking his ear playfully before taking his hand and leading him towards the stairs.

He quickly forgot all about moving furniture as he followed her, admiring how her white jean shorts framed her bottom rather wonderfully, his mind buzzing with imaginings of the special massage she had in store for him.

 **Private Residence, Villa Montmorency, 16e arrondissement, Paris, France, June 26, 2018**

The smoke was the first thing Mary noticed. It hung in a haze around the chandeliers and wafted about the large room. Jean-Paul was seated in the corner, smoking a cigar and playing poker with several older gentlemen. Models and actresses seemed to be everywhere, laughing and flirting with men at the bar, grooving on the dance floor, or sitting on the vintage sofas and settees having a chat. Some had cigarettes balanced in their dainty fingers, others had marijuana joints. The scene was entirely decadent and so very French – the rich and beautiful of the city partying in lavish splendour in a mansion tucked away in an exclusive enclave.

"Come," Aline smiled, taking Mary's hand. "There is someone I want you to meet."

She followed the taller woman into the room, weaving through the various groups and circles of people until they reached a table in the corner. Paul was surrounded by some rather stuffy looking men, all of them sharing what looked to be a bottle of very expensive cognac.

"Ah! _Marie_ , here you are," the director smiled, waving her over.

Mary let go of Aline's hand and came around to Paul's side, kissing him on both cheeks. A chair was brought over by a server dressed in a tuxedo and she sat down, careful to smooth her metallic red Versace party dress as she crossed her legs. Aline sat down between two other men on the other side of the table, smiling and laughing with them.

" _Marie_ , these are good friends of mine – Félix, André, and Robert," he smiled, gesturing to the other men seated nearby. "They help to ensure that our productions go smoothly."

Mary smiled politely and nodded to each of the men. A server brought champagne, while the table conversation moved into French politics, of which she had very little interest. She noticed that Aline was having a private conversation with one of the men next to her, not bothering to pay attention to the rest of the table.

"Lady _Marie_ ," a female server called, leaning over to speak softly. "Jean-Paul asks that you join him at his table."

Mary glanced at the server, then looked over at Paul.

"Go," he nodded. "We must keep those with the money happy, yes?"

Mary smiled and rose from her chair, touching Paul's shoulder lightly before heading across the room to Jean-Paul and his poker game. He smiled when he noticed her approach and an empty seat was waiting for her next to him. When she arrived, all of the men stood, and Jean-Paul drew her close and kissed her lightly in greeting. He smelled of smoke, though it was different from the cigars she had seen her father smoke over the years. It was more heady, almost spicy somehow.

"Hello. Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"It isn't a party in Nice, but it will do," she teased, smiling to the other players and taking a seat. "It's a rather interesting mix of guests, isn't it?"

"Everyone here is involved in the arts," he explained. "Actors, models, directors, producers…"

"And you finance types as well," she noted with a smile.

He laughed and nodded. "Bankers and politicians, yes. We are all part of the business in some way. We like to get together like this, away from the press and with far less attention."

She nodded and glanced around the room. When Aline told her that they were going out tonight, she assumed they would go to an expensive restaurant or nightclub. Instead, they were driven a bit west into this gated community, and a private party inside a vast mansion. There was nothing particularly special about it, and it hardly was anything extraordinary compared to parties Mary had been to in the past, but there was a different mood here, a sense of freedom in the way everyone behaved. This place seemed hidden away and private, allowing the guests the luxury of doing whatever they wanted without the scrutiny they usually attracted when they went out.

She watched as the cards were dealt. The players seemed to bet their chips with casual nonchalance. Jean-Paul barely looked at his cards, raising the bet as the first three community cards were dealt – ace of hearts, two of clubs, and eight of spades.

"How much is that?" she whispered.

He turned and smiled at her, his lips suddenly quite close. "250,000 euro so far."

She blinked in astonishment, but did her best to hide it with cool indifference. Even to the rich, a quarter of a million euros was still a significant amount, and the hand wasn't even done yet.

"100," an older man with a grey moustache nodded, placing his chips in the centre of the table with the rest of the pot.

Three other people called the bet, including Jean-Paul. The fourth card was a six of clubs.

"200," the same man bet again, moving his chips forward.

After a pause, one of the other players folded their cards, while the third called the bet. At Jean-Paul's turn, she calculated the pot stood at 1,050,000 euros, all for just a single hand of poker. She wondered how much had been won and lost in the time since they began playing.

"What do you think?" he asked her quietly.

"It's a lot of money," she replied.

"The money doesn't matter. Do you think I can win?" he asked.

"I can't say. I haven't seen your cards," she answered, looking at him curiously.

"But you have seen me bet," he nodded. "So I am either a fool who overplays his hand, or a man who knows more than he lets on."

She smiled and nodded.

"Which do you think I am?" he asked.

She arched her eyebrow. "I suppose the outcome of this hand will tell."

He smiled, keeping his eyes on her as he called the bet and placed his chips in the pot.

The dealer placed the fifth and final common card on the table – the two of spades.

"500," the first man declared, placing two stacks of chips in the pot.

The second player took a long time weighing his choice before deciding to call as well.

"2.25 million," she mumbled, her pulse jumping at the audacity of betting so much money in a card game. This one hand was more than her entire salary for _Duplicity_ , or any other project she'd ever made.

"Well?" Jean-Paul asked, looking at her again.

She swallowed. "You've already bet nearly 500,000 as it is."

He nodded. "This would put me in for almost a million, but if I win, I would take 3.75. Not a bad return."

She looked at him closely, trying to gauge whether the mischief in his eyes was a sign that he was clever, or reckless. She could feel the stares of the other players on them. At first she expected they were waiting to see what Jean-Paul would do, but it felt as though some of them were looking at her.

"Surely you aren't risking such a large amount on what I say?" she questioned.

"Why not?" he smirked. "I'm betting far more on you already."

"You're betting on Paul, and the rest of the cast, as well," she countered.

"In part, yes, but you're the star," he replied easily.

She looked at the large pile of chips, the five community cards and the other players. Jean-Paul's cards were turned over, and she didn't dare reach for them.

"What is more important, _Marie_?" he asked quietly, his voice low and smooth. "Being safe and not risking, or knowing that, win or lose, you were brave enough to do something bold?"

She looked at him and blinked from the intensity of his stare.

"Call," he said crisply, turning away from her and putting several stacks of chips into the pile.

Her pulse was racing as she watched the other players turn over their cards.

"Two pair – aces and eights," the first man declared, showing his cards.

The second man grinned. "Full house, eights full of twos."

Her chest tightened when she saw the cards. Maybe Jean-Paul could beat two pair, but a full house was surely the strongest hand. She felt a shudder of fear that he had just lost close to a million euros, and that she had somehow encouraged him to do it.

He smiled at her and turned over his cards. "Aces full of twos."

She gasped when revealed a pair of aces. He had the strongest hand from the very beginning, the highest pair, which became the highest three-of-a-kind, and finally the highest full house.

The rest of the players and some of the audience who had come over to watch applauded his win. He nodded in acknowledgment as the chips were gathered into large stacks and placed before him. The other two players got up from the table frowning in defeat, and they all took a short pause as the cards were collected and the drinks were refilled.

"Well?" he asked her, smiling triumphantly.

She nodded and leaned towards him. "Not such a fool, after all."

She kissed his cheek in congratulations and smiled as another flute of champagne was handed to her. Lifting her glass and smiling at him, she felt a rush go through her, as if she shared in Jean-Paul's win somehow. The champagne was cold and bubbly, and tasted delightful.

* * *

"Did you have fun?" Aline asked.

Mary turned away from the window of the car and looked over at her. "Yes, I did. It was quite the party."

"I heard that you got to see Jean-Paul win his big hand up close," Aline replied. "Papa said he was bragging about it for the rest of the night."

"I don't know if he was bragging," Mary shrugged. "I think the other players were whinging about their poor luck far more loudly. He seemed just happy to be playing."

"It is easier to be happy when you win," Aline laughed.

"He certainly did plenty of that," Mary nodded, looking back out the window.

The car made its way along the dark Seine river towards her apartment. They were due on set in six hours, but she wasn't tired. The high from the party was still in her veins, and as she looked out on evening Paris, she felt rather giddy. The city had long ago stopped being just a place she happened to be working and had become more of a home. Now here without Matthew or Anna, she felt as though she fit in for some reason, as if seeing this side of the French elite that Aline and Paul had introduced her to, made her time here more enjoyable and exciting.

"It seemed that you knew quite a few people there tonight," Mary noted, looking back at Aline.

"There were many actors there, but also the financiers like Jean-Paul. I have seen them many times," Aline answered.

"Do these events happen often?" Mary asked.

Aline nodded. "There is a main group that always shows up – the ones you saw sitting with Papa – Félix, André and Robert. They are in government. They help him with his permits, his tax credits, all of that."

"They make his productions run smoothly," Mary stated, recalling Paul's words from earlier.

"They do," Aline confirmed.

"And what's in it for them? Free drinks at these exclusive parties?" Mary asked.

Aline smiled. "They are all powerful men. They do not need gifts. They can take what they want."

Mary arched her eyebrow at Aline's choice of words.

"They are all strong supporters of the arts," Aline continued. "They like to promote French talent. That is why they are so loyal to Paul."

Mary nodded in understanding.

The car soon arrived at her building. The driver got out and came around to open the door for her.

"You're all right to go inside?" Aline asked. "Should I come up with you?"

Mary shook her head. "I'm fine. Thanks for caring."

"Good night, _Marie_ ," Aline smiled, leaning towards her. "I will see you on set."

"Good night," Mary nodded and gave her a light kiss on the lips. She stepped out of the car and went inside, her stride slow and leisurely, the buzz of the evening still strong.

Aline watched her go in. When the driver pulled them away from the kerb, she took out her phone and sent a text.

 _'She liked it.'_

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 29, 2018**

Matthew unlocked the door and turned the handle. He paused on the threshold, grinning and chuckling to himself.

"Calm down, Crawley. Come on," he shook his head, but still his smile remained.

He took deep breaths, his pulse racing, the familiar warmth of desire filling him. This was so juvenile and immature, but he couldn't stop himself. He hadn't touched Mary for an entire month. All the teasing text messages and saucy voicemails, all the nights spent having video sex with each other over the Internet had been wonderful, but they only made him hunger all the more for her arrival in the city today.

He had spent most of the day in the studio with Rooney doing the last of their audio sessions, repeating dialogue that hadn't come out as clean or crisp as he would have liked during filming. He drove her to the airport in the early evening, thanking her profusely for everything she'd done. She always had her pick of films, and to commit to his project on short notice was insanely generous. She kissed him goodbye and reminded him they would reunite here again in September for the premiere of their other film, _The Disciple_. As soon as she was safely through security clearance, he scrambled back to the car and took off for downtown, eager to see Mary.

The apartment had been cleaned just yesterday. He had flowers and candles arranged everywhere, stocked the bathroom with all of her favourite products, and the fridge with all of her favourite drinks and snacks. Alex and Anna's party was Sunday afternoon. Between now and then, he planned to keep her sequestered in the apartment, with little to no clothes on, if he could help it.

"Say hi before you jump her. Say hi before you jump her," he muttered, his heartbeat only quickening despite his best efforts to keep his raging libido under control. He took another deep breath before opening the door and heading inside.

He silently congratulated himself on taking the time to at least remove his shoes instead of sprinting inside. Still smiling widely, he walked past the kitchen and into the living room, frowning slightly when he didn't find Mary waiting there. A quick glance showed she wasn't in the guest bedroom, or out on the terrace. That just left the master bedroom. He grinned, allowing his arousal and his imagination to flare in anticipation.

That's when he heard the sob.

He frowned, wondering if he imagined it or not, but there was no question the second time.

"Mary?" he called, opening the door and peering inside in concern.

"Matthew!" Mary exclaimed in surprise. She was sitting in bed, her robe tied tightly around her. She quickly wiped her eyes and smiled. "Hello, darling."

"Mary, what…" he questioned, coming into the room. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, getting up from the bed and going over to hug him. "I'm so glad you're finally home."

"Darling, I heard you," he stated, easing her back a bit so he could see her face. "You were crying. What's wrong?"

"Crying?" she frowned. "Don't be silly, I wasn't crying."

He looked at her suspiciously. "I heard you."

"Oh, it's nothing, darling, honestly," she sniffled. She took his hands and led him to bed. "Come to bed. I've missed you so much, and I know you've missed me."

"Mary, stop," he cautioned, sitting her down on the bed and looking at her closely. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

She looked down and winced. "It's just…oh, it's so stupid, honestly."

"I don't care how stupid it is. Tell me, please," he pleaded, framing her face with his hands.

She sighed, her sad eyes making his stomach churn.

"I got here and I wanted to be ready for your return, so I took a bath and made myself pretty for you," she began.

He nodded. "You look beautiful, darling, except for the crying."

She huffed. "Well, when I finished my make-up, I got a notification on my phone. It seems that someone at the _New York Post_ saw _The Muse_ at a screening in Brooklyn."

He blinked in surprise. "Oh. I wasn't aware it was screening over here."

"Neither was I. I thought the North American premiere was going to be in Montreal in August, but apparently the studio decided to have a limited release in New York and Los Angeles now," she continued.

"All right," he nodded. "So what's wrong?"

She turned away from him and picked up her tablet from the nightstand. Swiping her fingers across the screen, she opened her browser and frowned.

"With _The Muse_ , acclaimed French director Paul Chaput gives us a fascinating look into the mind of an artist and his subject, and walks along the thin edge between inspiration and obsession, often leaping over without apology. As Antoine, veteran actor – and frequent Chaput collaborator – Vincent Cassel delivers a nuanced performance as the man who becomes preoccupied with his female model to the point of madness. Not only do we believe that Antoine is both creative genius and intensely flawed man, but Mr. Cassel looks every bit the part of a gifted artist capable of such powerful emotion. He is as sexy as he is unstable, and makes us want to see just how far off the deep end he can go," she read out the newspaper review.

Matthew glanced over at the tablet screen, watching Mary as she swallowed and blinked to stop a fresh set of tears from coming.

"All the elements are here for a captivating drama, but where _The Muse_ sadly falls apart is in the character of Lily – the focus of Antoine's imagination. Played with admirable effort by Mary Crawley, the Emmy award-winning television actress last seen in Thea Sharrock's surprise hit, _Shattered_ , Lily is a beautiful woman who quickly gets in over her head as Antoine's favourite model. Try as she might, and despite some very powerful and poignant monologues where she speaks directly to the camera, Ms. Crawley never makes us believe that Lily could actually inspire such profound feelings in Antoine. Her beauty is undeniable, and the sexual chemistry between the two characters is smouldering, though Chaput wisely never lets it catch fire, lest his suspenseful tale descend into softcore banality. We can easily see how Antoine would want to bed this woman, but never are we convinced that the works of art he creates, and the collapse of the rest of his life, could be caused by her," she struggled, shaking her head in frustration.

He put his hand on her back, rubbing it soothingly.

"Unfortunately, _The Muse_ feels hollow and incomplete. We have the requisite artist with a dark side, and, thanks to Chaput's steady hand blending the characters' monologues seamlessly into the rest of the film, a well-paced framework for a riveting story. Ms. Crawley is clearly talented, but she is either miscast, or misused, in this role. Chaput is a director who likes to favour a familiar circle of actors. Let's hope that he is able to bring out the best in Ms. Crawley in future performances, so we are not left wanting from a film that could have been so much more," she finished, sniffling again.

"Darling," he called softly, drawing her reluctant gaze. "It's just one review, and there were plenty of compliments on your performance, besides. You know that you can't take this to heart."

"Oh, how can I not?" she whinged, discarding her tablet on to the nightstand. "They basically said the film would have been better, if not for me! This is horrible, can't you see? Those blasted Hollywood studio executives will read this and feel they've been vindicated. I can't carry a film on my own – that's what this review says. At least in Europe, there was a decent amount of praise for me, even if they weren't gushing with compliments. None of them were like this."

He sighed and pulled her into his embrace.

She buried her face in his neck, clutching him tight. "Oh God, I've made a huge mess of this, haven't I?"

"Shh, no, you haven't," he assured her. "Others will see how good you were in this, and you have two more films to come. Just keep working. It'll all come good, you'll see."

She sobbed and eventually sat back up, wiping her eyes and nodding shakily. "I just don't even know anymore. I thought I did well in this role. I thought _Orlena_ was even better. God, who's to say now? Who knows what's coming?"

"Listen to me," he urged her, his voice firm and confident. "All it takes is one performance to push you back up again. I'm proof enough of that. So, if it's not _The Muse_ , it'll be _Orlena_ , or _Duplicity_ , or what shall come afterwards. You'll keep at it. A career isn't made on one performance, and it surely doesn't fall on one review."

She closed her eyes and exhaled. Pursing her lips, she looked at him again, his adoring blue eyes giving her a faint glimmer of calm.

"I've ruined our evening," she shook her head despondently. "I was supposed to be lying in bed half-naked when you came in, not blubbing all over myself."

He chuckled and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head. "Don't worry about that. I'm just so glad you're here."

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, his scent comforting her. "How was your last day? Did you finish everything? Tell me all about it."

He smiled. "I'll tell you all about it after we get ready for bed."

He stood up and brought her with him, guiding her to the bathroom with his arm around her shoulders. His body remained primed and ready, but he held back, going about his normal absolutions and helping Mary into one of his dress shirts. He sent her off to bed and did a quick tour of the apartment to turn off the lights and grab a glass of water for her. Once he was settled beneath the duvet, she snuggled up to him and kissed him lightly.

"How does it feel to be finished your directorial debut?" she asked, closing her eyes.

"I feel relieved, more than anything else," he admitted. "There's still a million things I'm wondering about whether I need to fix, or change when I go into editing, but all of the shooting is done. I've got a movie."

"Well done, darling. I'm looking forward to seeing it," she slurred, curling herself against him.

He smiled, knowing she was falling asleep. "So anyway, today I was in the studio pretty much all day. We had to do some audio dubs for some of the outdoor scenes. Jack played me some tracks from the score so we could see how the music is going to work. It wasn't bad, actually."

He continued to tell her all about his film as she drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 29, 2018**

"I've ruined our evening," she shook her head despondently. "I was supposed to be lying in bed half-naked when you came in, not blubbing all over myself."

He chuckled and pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head. "Don't worry about that. I'm just so glad you're here."

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, his scent comforting her. "How was your last day? Did you finish everything? Tell me all about it."

He smiled. "I'll tell you all about it after we get ready for bed."

He stood up and brought her with him, guiding her to the bathroom with his arm around her shoulders. His body remained primed and ready, but he held back, going about his normal absolutions and helping Mary into one of his dress shirts. He sent her off to bed and did a quick tour of the apartment to turn off the lights and grab a glass of water for her. Once he was settled beneath the duvet, she snuggled up to him and kissed him lightly.

"How does it feel to be finished your directorial debut?" she asked, closing her eyes.

"I feel relieved, more than anything else," he admitted. "There's still a million things I'm wondering about whether I need to fix, or change when I go into editing, but all of the shooting is done. I've got a movie."

"Well done, darling. I'm looking forward to seeing it," she slurred, curling herself against him.

He smiled, knowing she was falling asleep. "So anyway, today I was in the studio pretty much all day. We had to do some audio dubs for some of the outdoor scenes. Jack played me some tracks from the score so we could see how the music is going to work. It wasn't bad, actually."

He continued to tell her all about his film as she drifted off to sleep.

 **Chapter 8:**

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 29, 2018**

Mary looked out the window at the quiet evening. The city was calm and peaceful at such a late hour, the lights and corporate logos of the downtown office towers and hotels still bright and visible, but they seemed smaller somehow beneath the vast dark sky. Toronto was so much different from London, Paris, or New York. She felt more at ease here, more comfortable, particularly in Matthew's apartment. She ran her fingers up and down the open collar of his dress shirt that she had worn to bed, the light scent of him soothing her frazzled nerves. At 2 a.m. she opened her eyes, her mind no longer able to keep quiet and let her sleep. Not wanting to disturb him, she slipped out of bed and came into the living room. She went over to the window, leaned against the cool glass, and here she stood, staring at nothing, thinking of everything.

So many questions flew through her mind. What was her next move? How could she break out of the stagnant rut that she found her career in? The poor review for _The Muse_ had shaken her, and Matthew's encouraging words hadn't entirely erased the feeling of dread she held inside. Everything he told her made perfect sense. Once _The Muse_ played to a wider audience at the Montreal World Film Festival in August, this one bad review might be forgotten. When _Orlena_ was released, the response would be more positive. Even a month into filming _Duplicity_ , she was optimistic about its prospects, as well. The scenes that Paul was running her through had been challenging and bold, and she honestly thought she was doing some of her best work.

The voices in her head wouldn't relent, though. What if things didn't turn around? What if her next films were met with lukewarm indifference? What if Paul decided to go with Aline or another actress for his next project? Even if Paul was willing to give her another chance, what if Jean-Paul pulled his financing? If she lost her opportunities in France, what was she left with? Where else could she go?

She shut her eyes and shook her head, trying to drive the negative concerns from her thoughts. Paul was pleased with her. He never indicated otherwise. She seemed to have Jean-Paul's trust. Sitting at his side when he won that huge poker hand at the party a few nights ago was exhilarating. They got along well enough, and she would be wise to encourage and develop that connection with him. If she could keep Jean-Paul on her side, she could make herself indispensable. So long as they believed in her, reviews from America wouldn't matter.

She opened her eyes and looked up at the sky once again. Perhaps she needed to do something bold, something to draw more attention to her. _Orlena_ would show her in an entirely different light from anything she'd done before. The story, and the love scenes with Jimmy and Aline, would turn people's heads. Her character in _Duplicity_ was even more raw and real. Anyone seeing these films would know she had left Empress Jade behind and was capable of far more than she'd shown in her other projects.

Would it be enough to get Hollywood to notice her again?

She thought back to filming her scenes with Aline. The model-turned-actress had no problem being naked on camera, and when Mary saw how beautiful she looked, the way she used her body to captivate her audience, it was startling and powerful. Mary always maintained that she didn't have to flash her breasts or ass to deliver a memorable performance, but was she just adhering to some old belief instilled in her by Granny, or was there an actual purpose to her policy?

Was she really in a position now to be so particular about what she did and didn't do for a role?

Through three productions now, she worked with Paul and saw the way he handled his actors. There was an understanding, a trust between him and those he'd worked with before – Vincent, Aline, and others. He told them what to do and they did it without question. Mary had developed her own rapport with him now as well, but she still didn't put herself entirely in his hands. She always discussed different scenes and dialogue with him, and asked plenty of questions, suggesting her own way of playing a scene. The _New York Post_ review had singled her out as the main problem with _The Muse_. Maybe it was time to not think so much, to truly take Paul's direction faithfully and see if that would help?

She sighed. So many questions. So many doubts. For the first time in her life, she felt almost aimless, lost, unsure of what to do next.

"You all right?" Matthew asked.

She closed her eyes when he came up behind her, his hands taking hold of her hips, his lips placing a light kiss on her cheek. Her head fell back to rest on his shoulder, her hands still braced on the window.

"Couldn't sleep," she mumbled. "I didn't want to wake you."

"Ah. Well, come back to bed. It's late," he whispered, nuzzling her neck.

She opened her eyes and leaned back against him, his firm body warm against her back. She turned her head and kissed his cheek, the feel of his skin warming her.

"I owe you," she stated sultrily. "You wanted to fuck me when you got home, and my ridiculous worrying spoiled the mood."

His grip tightened on her waist. "You weren't being ridiculous at all. Of course, I missed you. Badly. But that's all right. We can go to sleep and pick things up again in the morning."

She shifted her bottom against him, feeling his arousal stir beneath the thin cotton of his pyjamas.

"It seems like you'd rather not wait for morning," she smiled, kissing him until he turned and met her lips with his own. "Neither do I."

"Mary," he growled, pressing against her now with clear intent. "Please don't tease me like this. I've been without you for too long."

"I'm not teasing you. Fuck me, Matthew," she begged. "Fuck me here, right now. I'll make it so good for you, I promise."

His eyes flashed open, the blue seeming to glow from the lights filtering in from outside. He stared at her hungrily, her words enflaming his need.

"I'll do everything you want," she continued. Her fingers flew up and quickly unbuttoned her shirt. "I've missed you so much, missed having you inside me. Let me show you."

"Oh God, Mary," he groaned, seizing her lips in a firm kiss, grunting as her tongue reached out for his.

She threw her shirt to the floor, her panties following soon after as he struggled to contain himself.

"Mary! The window," he babbled. They were several stories up from the ground, it was near 3 a.m., and they were partially shielded by the darkness of the room and the terrace outside, but in theory, guests in the hotel facing them, and anyone walking by looking up at the right angle might be able to see them.

"Let them see, I don't care," she breathed, bending over and leaning against the glass. "Let them see me getting fucked senseless by my gorgeous fiancé."

His eyes widened as his hands ran along the smooth skin of her back and down to her ass. He stared at her naked body while he fumbled with his pyjamas and shorts, shoving them down his legs and kicking them off.

"Oh, yes!" she cried, shoving back against him when he thrust into her.

"Mary! Fuck!" he snarled, his hands moving up her body and taking hold of her shoulders, keeping her in place as he drove into her. The lewd sounds of her constant moans, their bodies coming together, and the sight of her taking him in all added to his delirium, sending his arousal soaring.

"Yes! Oh God, yes! I love how you fuck me!" she chanted, crying out as he reached around and played with her breasts. She rocked back and forth in time with his frantic rhythm, every plunge pushing her closer to the edge of her release.

He spanked her hard and the sting from his hand undid her. She shouted out in bliss, slapping the window as her body shook in his hold. He slowed his pace, leaning on to her back, kissing her neck and shoulder as she rode out the waves of pleasure crashing inside of her.

"Mmm," she sighed, breathing deeply. "You're so fucking good."

He laughed, his chest rumbling against her slick back. "That more than makes up for earlier tonight, my darling."

"Not even by half," she objected, reaching up and caressing his face. She turned her head and kissed him lightly. "I want to taste myself on you."

He grunted in shock as she stepped away from him and turned around. His eyes caught her mischievous glance before she fell to her knees and took hold of him.

"Mary!" he gasped, his hands reaching for the window as she closed her mouth around him. She took him deep, pulled back, and took him deeper. Her sultry moan set his mind afire, his hips responding without further thought.

Her hands reached up and massaged his thighs. Her playful eyes seemed to dare him to move faster, challenging him to be as rough as he wanted.

He revelled in the feel of her, making her choke and drool around him, every thrust feeding his dark addiction. There was always a part of him that held back in these moments. She was his fiancé and lover, not his slave, and seeing her submit to him like this felt both thrilling and wrong. As she continued her eager attentions, his inhibitions faded, primal need making him give her more, greedily seeking his own pleasure.

"I'm close," he warned her, his voice tight, his eyes locked on hers. His hand dropped to her head, moving through her hair and taking a firm hold.

She seemed to smile around him, one hand squeezing his ass in encouragement, the other wickedly reaching up between his legs.

"Mary!" he shouted, the touch of her fingers and the warmth and tightness of her mouth and throat doing him in. His legs tensed as he let go, his hand shaking as he finished. He let out a deep breath and dropped both hands to his sides, his eyes glazing over when he watched her draw back and lick her lips wantonly.

"I missed this," she drawled, cleaning him with her lips and tongue. "What do you want me to do next? I'm yours to command, darling. Whatever you want."

He grinned down at her. "I want my turn."

She blinked in surprise as he pulled her to her feet and moved her away from the window and towards the sectional. Sitting down at his urging, she began to turn, knowing how much he loved having her from behind. Instead, he pushed her on to her back, spread her legs, and pulled her towards him.

"Matthew, what are you…" she mumbled just before he knelt down and put his mouth between her legs.

"Matthew!" she called, her body tensing as his tongue and fingers delved into her. His hands kept her legs parted and pushed back, tilting her hips up and giving him full access. He curled his fingers inside of her, flaring her arousal with insistent strokes while his lips and tongue teased her sensitive flesh.

"Yes!" she whimpered again and again as he built her up. His blue eyes drew her in, hypnotizing her while he feasted. She bucked beneath him, gasping and moaning as her second spend drew ever closer.

She yelled loudly as she went over, her wide eyes staring at his. He kissed his way up her body and claimed her mouth. He loomed over her, his arms planted on either side of her raised legs. She ran her hands across his firm chest and hard abs, moving down to reach for him.

"Oh!" she whimpered, finding him ready once more.

He grinned and nodded.

She obeyed his silent order, moving him into position before reaching above her head and grabbing hold of the top of the sofa.

"Yes!" she called as he pushed inside of her, moving slowly and deliberately until she took all of him.

"Do you like this?" he asked, smirking and giving her another hard plunge.

"Yes!" she breathed.

"More?" he asked with maddening patience.

"Yes! Please!" she begged.

He bent down and teased her lips with his tongue, his hips pushing down on hers, taking her again and again. He filled her senses. His blue eyes that she could still make out in the darkness. His scent of soap and sweat and sex. His ragged breathing and her moans in reply ringing in her ears. His flavour on her lips and tongue, mixed with hers. His powerful thrusts touching deep inside her. Everything she had been stressing over was burned away by the sheer force of his passion. She gave in to her overwhelming lust, reaching up and caressing his shoulders before moving to his neck and finally playing with his hair.

"Fuck me, Matthew. Fuck me," she hissed. "Harder. Oh, God. Harder!"

He growled at her. His rhythm wavered.

She smiled wickedly up at him. Her hands moved down and cupped her breasts in anticipation.

He sat up and shouted out, his hand doing the rest.

She arched her back and closed her eyes, taking all he had.

* * *

"I can't believe I walked away from this years ago," she laughed, kissing his chest. "It's strange, thinking of how we found our way back to each other, but I'm so very grateful for it."

"Grateful for me, or grateful for the sex?" he joked.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Grateful for us, that there is still an us after all that's happened."

He looked at her pointedly.

She rolled her eyes. "And a little bit grateful for the sex, yes," she laughed, kissing him quickly.

He hugged her to his chest, his hand running lazily up and down her bare back beneath the duvet.

"We both were fools. I more than you," he chuckled. "I remember pitying the woman who would be unlucky enough to take me on after you. She would have had to put up with part of my heart still belonging to you."

She frowned sadly and looked up at him. "Oh, darling. You would have gotten over me, eventually. Maybe you would have found someone far nicer?"

He smiled and shook his head. "It doesn't matter who I would have found. Every time I saw a billboard for one of your movies, or caught a glimpse of you on a red carpet at an awards show, it all would have come flooding back. I wouldn't have been able to hide my true feelings for long, and now, luckily enough, I don't have to."

"Lucky, indeed," she agreed. "I'm nowhere to be seen over here now. If you'd waited a while longer before making your move, you would have forgotten all about me."

He sighed. "Never."

"Does it bother you? How my ambition seems to never be satisfied?" she asked, caressing his stomach.

"No. I just wish you would see that the highs and lows are all part of the same ascent, and not take the setbacks so heavily," he replied. "One day you'll look back on all of this – the bullshit with Henry, the lies about your father, your exile to France – they'll all make your triumph so much sweeter that you persevered through it. I know it doesn't make you feel any better, but there are literally hundreds of thousands of actors who would trade places with you in a heartbeat."

"Mmm, well there are hundreds of thousands of women who would trade places with me right now, I know that," she teased. "In bed with Matthew Crawley. Goodness."

He laughed. "That's hardly true, and besides, I'm taken, and in September it will be official."

She smiled. "I can show you photos of the backdrop and table settings that I decided on with Mum and Isobel."

"That's quite all right," he answered. "I'm sure that whatever you've chosen will be spectacular. We have so much to look forward to, you know. Don't let one bad review, or some ancient studio executives convince you otherwise."

She pursed her lips, trying to believe in what he said as much as he did. "So, we have all of Saturday to ourselves. What shall we do?"

"I was actually planning on staying in. I bought groceries so we wouldn't have to leave the apartment," he smiled.

"Trapping me here and forcing me to satisfy your needs all day and night?" she questioned. "That's quite presumptuous of you, isn't it?"

"It was just a fantasy, darling," he shook his head. "We can do whatever you like."

She raised up and looked at him, reaching up and caressing his face. "Now, now, I suppose I could be convinced. That is, if you don't break down on me prematurely."

He glared at her smiling face. "Break down on you? Let's get some sleep and we'll see who wears who out in the morning."

She laughed and snuggled up to him, closing her eyes and wrapping her leg across his.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, July 1, 2018**

"Sybil," Mary snapped, frowning at her youngest sister.

"What?" Sybil asked, sipping her beer and glancing at Mary questioningly.

"Nothing," Mary shook her head, taking in Sybil's bikini. The red swimsuit wasn't exactly skimpy, but it did show off plenty of her figure. Sybil had been working out obsessively for the past months losing her baby weight, and when she and Tom arrived at Anna's party, she had passed her daughter to her husband and promptly stripped her shorts and crop-top off. "You just don't look like any new mum that I know, is all."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Darling, don't start with me, please. This is the first time I've felt brave enough to wear a two-piece all summer. Besides, now that I'm no longer breastfeeding, I'm going to lose my curves soon enough, so I may as well flaunt them while I've got them."

Matthew coughed and patted his chest, his cheeks flaming as he tried to show no reaction. "Erm, I'm just going to go talk to Alex and Tom. I'll see you all later."

Anna smiled as she watched him kiss Mary quickly on the cheek and scamper off.

Mary arched her eyebrow pointedly at Sybil.

"Oh, please. It's not as if he's never seen me in a bikini before. You're one to talk," Sybil frowned, nodding towards her older sister. Mary was wearing a sheer sarong around her waist that matched her blue bikini. "Showing off, much?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "It's the two-year anniversary of our getting back together. I wanted to look good, that's all. I'm not putting myself on display like you are."

"You both look gorgeous," Anna noted, trying to play peacemaker. "I'm glad you could make it up today, Sybil."

"Thanks so much for having us," Sybil nodded. "And both of us may as well be wearing potato sacks compared to you. You look super hot, Anna."

Anna blushed. To celebrate her and Alex resuming their annual barbecue on the national holiday after skipping it last year, she went out and bought a new red-and-white bikini. This one had a strapless bra. She told herself she bought it to avoid tan lines, but she really was hoping it would please her husband. After all, it was her decision to cancel the party last year when they were having their problems, and she wanted to make it up to him now. Based on his reaction when she showed it to him this morning, she had succeeded and then some. He almost tore it in his haste to get it off of her.

"You do look amazing, Anna," Mary agreed with a smile. "And the backyard is beautiful. I think you've outdone yourself this year."

"Thanks," Anna nodded. "I got the idea to change some of the landscaping when we were back for Christmas, and with the warmer weather here this year, the work was done well in advance. It's a lot brighter now, I find."

Sybil nodded and looked around the immaculately manicured yard busy with revellers. "Emma loves the water, so you already won her over the moment she saw the pool."

They all looked over and laughed at Tom playing with his daughter, holding her against his chest as she splashed her hands in the water and squealed happily.

"How was she on the plane?" Anna asked, keeping her eyes on the baby.

"Passed out the moment we took off, just like her father," Sybil shrugged. "She's quite an easy traveller, I must say. Whether it's in her car seat, or whatever, the moment we're moving, she's out."

Mary smiled politely, watching Anna with some concern.

"Lucky you," Anna said finally, turning back and smiling at the two sisters.

* * *

"What's wrong with you?" Alex asked, smiling at Matthew as he flipped a salmon steak on the grill.

"Nothing," Matthew frowned, sipping his Coke. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you came running over here all red in the face after Sybil took her clothes off," Alex replied, glancing over at his wife and the two Crawley sisters. "Ah, I see. Got it."

"Hey! That's my sister-in-law, almost," Matthew warned. "She's your friend, too."

Alex frowned wryly at him. "Seriously? I'm allowed to think my friend is good-looking. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, really? Well, if that's the way it is, I was actually looking more at Anna. That bikini of hers is spectacular," Matthew retorted.

Alex scoffed. "Go ahead and look all you want. I'm the only one who gets to touch, and if Mary catches you staring at her little sister, you're in far more trouble."

Matthew shook his head. "Can we please change the subject? I was just surprised by Sybil's…erm…getting back in shape…that's all. Good for her."

Alex laughed and passed the salmon on to Matthew's plate. "I won't say a word."

"Won't say a word about what?" Tom asked, smiling as he came over with Emma clinging to his shoulder.

"Nothing," Matthew answered quickly. "Alex not saying a word is impossible. He never shuts up."

Tom glanced at them and nodded slowly.

"Burger, Tom? I have congee, if Emma will eat that," Alex suggested.

"Thanks, that would be great, yeah," Tom nodded.

Alex turned and went over to the nearby slow cooker to get a bowl of congee for the baby.

"Wow, Anna looks fucking hot, hey?" Tom asked, nudging Matthew in the side.

"What? Uh, I hadn't noticed," Matthew stammered, glancing over his shoulder at the women before turning away again.

"Congee for Emma, and burger for you," Alex announced, coming back over with the food. "I can put it all over at that table, Tom. What does Sybil want?"

"Probably get her a burger, too, yeah. Thanks," Tom nodded, picking up the bowl of congee. "Come on, Emma. Look! Lunch! Yes!"

"Salmon? My, aren't you the healthy one?" Mary joked, wrapping her arms around Matthew's waist from behind.

"It's for both of us, actually," he smiled. "Why don't you take this and go and sit down with Sybil and the rest of them? I'll get our drinks."

"Lovely," she smiled, kissing him quickly and taking his plate away.

"Babes, come and have a bite," Anna called, going over to her husband and putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Sounds good, love, but we can't go in just yet. We have guests," he smirked, kissing her lightly.

"Nice try," she shook her head at him. "You already had me this morning, so behave."

He pouted, drawing a laugh and a slap on the chest from her. "Will you at least go swimming with me later?"

"Maybe, as long as you promise to keep your hands in appropriate places," she said pointedly.

He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders, picking up the plate of burgers and going over to join the others at the outdoor dining table.

* * *

Anna walked upstairs, going as quietly as she could, her bare feet quiet on the carpet. She moved down the hallway and peeked into one of the guest bedrooms.

"Is she all right?" she whispered.

"She's asleep," Sybil nodded, waving her to come in. "She passed out the moment her head hit the pillow. It must be these posh linens of yours."

Anna laughed and came in, coming over and smiling down at Emma sleeping peacefully in the bed. Sybil had built a pillow fort around her to keep her from rolling off, though that was highly unlikely anyway given how wide the King-size bed was.

"She's such a little angel," Anna smiled.

"She can be, at moments like these," Sybil agreed. "Other times she drives me absolutely mad and makes me want to kill myself, or kill Tom, rather."

Anna covered her mouth and giggled.

"Don't worry, Anna. Your turn will come soon enough," Sybil assured her, reaching up and taking her hand.

Anna squeezed her hand back. "Thank you. God, I hope so. I think Alex would love a boy, but I wouldn't mind a girl, I think. They're just so precious."

"They are. Strangely enough, though, I think I'd like my next one to be a boy. I don't care about carrying on the Branson line or any of that nonsense, but there are so many girls in our family. I think it's high time there was a boy so Matthew and Tom don't feel quite so outnumbered."

Anna nodded. She smoothed out the duvet a little, making sure Emma was comfortable.

"Everything's all right with you two, isn't it, Anna?" Sybil asked, looking up at her. "Mary told me you had a bit of a rough patch."

"It is now, yeah," Anna confirmed. "It was more my fault. I just drove myself mental when I didn't get pregnant straight away, and after my miscarriage, it was just really hard for a while."

"I know you have lots of support, but you can always talk to me if you need to," Sybil confirmed, standing up and putting her hands on Anna's shoulders. "Honestly, I've seen and heard it all, I think. One of my patients had three miscarriages before she had her first, and she's pregnant with her third now."

"Three? God, I don't know about that. I'd just take the one for now, if I could," Anna shook her head.

Sybil laughed. "I thought the same thing, too. Women seem to have a remarkable ability to forget about the pain of pregnancy and labour. I suppose it's an evolution thing. If we didn't we'd never have more children and the population would plummet."

Anna smiled and hugged Sybil warmly. "Thanks. I should have called you before, I just didn't know how to talk about it, even with Mary."

"Well, my sister is hardly a decent resource when it comes to babies, though if you ask me, she's going to give Matthew children far sooner than most of us think. Under all of that cold exterior is a wonderful mother, I'm sure of it," Sybil smiled. "Though you and Edith will mostly likely be up next."

"I would love nothing more. I love the idea of all our kids being close in age, even if we don't see each other as much as we'd like," Anna replied, stepping back from Sybil and looking at Emma again.

"It would give these parties an entirely new dimension, that's for sure," Sybil laughed.

"Sybil! Is she asleep yet?" Mary asked, looking in from the doorway.

"She is," Sybil nodded.

"Good. Then come on back down, both of you! Goodness, how many women does it take to put a baby down for its nap?" Mary rolled her eyes, turning and heading back down the hall.

Anna gave Sybil a knowing look.

"Somewhere _deep_ underneath all that coldness, I meant. Very deep. We're talking an abyss here," Sybil sighed.

Anna laughed and they took one last look at the baby before leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind them.

* * *

"Thank God," Tom groaned, putting the baby monitor back down on the counter. "Sybil finally got her to sleep. Beer, please, Alex."

Matthew smiled at the image on the small video screen of Emma sleeping peacefully upstairs.

Alex opened two bottles of beer and slid them over to Alex and Matthew. "Cheers," he smiled, raising his own bottle to the two of them.

"Cheers," Tom replied, raising his own bottle and taking a long swig.

"Umm, excuse me, Matthew?"

They all looked up as a two young women came over, smiling nervously.

"Yes?" Matthew asked, standing up and nodding to them. "You'd like a photo?"

"If that's all right," the other woman mumbled.

"No problem," Matthew smiled, putting his beer bottle on the counter and out of sight. "Let's get the pool in the background."

He turned around and each of them stood on either side of him. Keeping his hands behind him, he smiled as they took a selfie with one of their phones.

"Good?" he asked.

"Yeah! Thanks!" they smiled, leaving him and laughing together.

"Sorry about that," Alex apologized. "Anna always invites the neighbours and usually they don't show up. Apparently, word got out that you would be here."

"It's fine. I didn't expect to be approached in your backyard, but it's fine," Matthew shrugged. He picked up his beer and sat down again.

"There he goes. Baby asleep and break out the beer. You Irish," Sybil shook her head, coming over and sitting down on her husband's lap.

"Seeing how I took care of her all afternoon, I think I've more than earned it," Tom answered, passing the bottle to his wife so she could take a drink. "It's good, yeah?"

"Really good," Sybil nodded.

"This is rather cosy," Mary teased, sitting down on Matthew's lap and putting her arm around his shoulders. "Matthew Crawley, award-winning actor, enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon in lavish Rosedale?"

"Well, we all can't have an English country home to go to, darling," Matthew teased, kissing her lightly.

"And you seemed to have found yourself some admirers, have you?" Mary arched her eyebrow at him.

"They just wanted a selfie," Matthew explained. "I'm sure they'll come up to you next."

"I doubt it," Mary scoffed, running her hand across his bare chest. "I'm not who they're after."

He gave her a wry frown.

"We should take a selfie, or a photo, rather," Anna declared, coming over to her husband. "Celebrating Canada Day with friends and family."

She sat down on Alex's lap as they all reached for their phones. One of servers hired to help out with the party came over and took care of the task – taking six photos of the group with six different phones.

"That's lovely," Anna smiled, glancing at the image. "I'll post it to your accounts."

Mary nodded and relaxed against Matthew's chest.

"What do you think the reaction will be? ' _OMG!_ Matthery _back in Toronto!_ '?" Matthew joked.

"I think there's bound to be a 'booty' comment or 'peach' emoji once they see what Sybil's wearing, or lack thereof," Mary noted archly.

"Please," Sybil grumbled. "When your fans see you sitting on Matthew's lap, there will be 'Mom _and Dad are goals_ ' and ' _How are they so perf?_ ' all over our timelines."

They all laughed in amusement.

* * *

The party ran into the warm evening. Sybil and Tom retired first, taking Emma up to their guestroom after the baby finished her dinner. With the last of the guests gone, Mary and Matthew took up their familiar spot around the outdoor firepit, snuggling together under a blanket on one of the lounge chairs, while Anna and Alex took another.

"I was thinking we would take Sybil, Tom and Emma to the aquarium tomorrow," Mary stated. "She can run around in the park down there before her nap."

"We'll be out most of the day, but that's no problem. Sybil has a key," Anna replied.

"Let's just try and get there early. The less lining up we have to do, the better," Matthew mumbled.

"Afraid you'll be mobbed by your adoring public?" Mary teased. "Maybe you should hire security to keep them away from you."

"You're hilarious," Matthew huffed, tickling her lightly.

"Did you find a studio in Paris yet?" Alex asked, caressing Anna's back.

"I was thinking of using Cité du Cinéma, but there's some pretentious film already using the facilities there," Matthew grumbled, tickling Mary again.

"Excuse you," Mary sniffed haughtily. "There's more than enough available editing suites outside of ours. You're just afraid of Paul and everyone seeing what you're working on."

"Hardly," Matthew countered. "Though I will say that I may become rather distracted being able to visit you anytime I wanted."

"Paul doesn't like outsiders on set, remember?" Mary teased. "You'd probably be turned back by security."

Alex and Anna laughed knowingly.

"Anyway," Matthew continued, glaring at Mary. "I found a great spot in Saint-Ambroise. It's just a 10-minute ride away, and they have everything I need, including no distractions."

"Are they giving you a discount if you let them use your name and photo in their promotional materials?" Mary needled him.

"As a matter of fact, I promised that you would be more than happy to help them. They can use an artistic shot of you in the throes from _Orlena_. I'm sure there must be plenty of those," Matthew shot back. "Their website will crash from all the traffic."

"Don't make me throw you in the pool," Mary threatened, poking him in the ribs.

They all laughed and Alex got up and refreshed their drinks.

"Is it strange that we're flying back to Paris later this week and I'm almost sad about it?" Anna mused aloud. "I think I always took Toronto for granted, but it's hard to imagine a better city than this."

"In the summer, yes," Mary corrected her. "I prefer Paris or London in January, Los Angeles or somewhere warmer, ideally."

"We'll be back here soon enough," Alex reasoned, lying back down with Anna. "TIFF is just a couple of months away."

"Then back to London for the wedding," Matthew smiled at Mary.

"And where to after that for the honeymoon?" Anna asked.

"My fiancé refuses to tell me," Mary replied, arching her eyebrow at Matthew. "He is taking a rather large risk assuming responsibility for the entire trip."

"You'll love it, I'm quite certain," Matthew nodded. "Manchester is lovely in the Autumn."

Anna smiled at Alex knowingly.

"Take me there and you'll be enjoying the lovely view from divorce court," Mary frowned.

"There's no reason to panic, now," Matthew smiled. "Isn't it more important that we're together, as opposed to where we go?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "You're such a sentimental sap, you know that?"

"Answer me," he challenged.

Mary frowned over at Anna before smiling at Matthew. "Yes, yes, I don't care if we end up in Antarctica, so long as my new husband is with me."

"That's the spirit," he chuckled, kissing her lightly.

"However, if given the choice…" she continued.

Laughter rang out as the flames flickered into the night sky.

 **Alain Ducasse au Plaza Athénée, H** **ô** **tel Plaza Athénée, 8e arrondissement, Paris, France, July 12, 2018**

"How was your time in Canada?" Jean-Paul asked, using his fork to break off a delicate flake of sea bass and bringing it to his mouth.

"Fine," Mary smiled, nodding her head as she reached for her wine in the ornate crystal goblet. "Toronto is lovely this time of year."

He nodded in agreement. "You saw the reviews for _The Muse_?"

"I did," she replied, her chest tightening in annoyance. "They weren't as positive as I would have liked, but taken as a whole, they weren't so bad. Once the film debuts in Montréal, there should be more interest, and a better response."

She sipped her wine, stifling her pique. After the poor review in the _New York Post_ , six further reviews had come out from New York and Los Angeles, all slightly better. The rating for the film on _Rotten Tomatoes_ had risen to 65%, and a 62 on _Metacritic_. It wasn't anywhere near the triumphant return she had hoped for, but it didn't entirely condemn her either. There was just enough positive commentary to keep some momentum going for the release of _Orlena_ in November, though not much.

"Paul didn't care, of course," Jean-Paul smiled. "He didn't even read them all, I do not think. Still, I would hope for a better reception for _Orlena_ and _Duplicity_."

"As would I," she echoed carefully. She glanced around the restaurant. They were seated at the exclusive Cabin table, with Jean-Paul sitting beneath the carved out hull of a boat. There was a buffer zone between them and the other patrons, as if the host had deliberately ensured they would have privacy, even though they were seated at the most prominent table.

She measured her words before continuing. He was smart enough to know if she tried to patronise him. "I think both films are more interesting and complex, which should attract a larger audience, both here and in North America."

He looked down at his plate, finally swallowing and looking up at her as he sipped his wine.

"I agree," he nodded eventually.

"So you see, there is still reason for optimism," she smiled.

He smiled back. "I am always optimistic, _Marie_. But, I also know when to keep going, and when to stop."

She nodded, taking another sip of wine. Gleaming chandeliers hung from the restaurant's high ceiling, making the light dance about them. The food was delicious, the wine exceptional, but she was preoccupied with keeping Jean-Paul in a good mood. Filming for _Duplicity_ was proceeding well enough, but with the most recent news the lukewarm response to _The Muse_ , she felt it important to keep his attention on the films to come, and how much better they would be.

"I do not know if Aline mentioned it, but we have another party coming up," he stated, putting his wine glass down and looking over at her. "It is at the end of the month. The same people will be there as last time, more or less."

"No, she didn't mention it, but I'm sure she would have, eventually," she replied.

"Of course," he nodded. "Well, regardless, I would like you to be there as my guest."

She smiled. "I should be delighted."

"Excellent," he answered. "Your fiancé, though, _Mathieu_? I hope you understand, but this party is as much business as it is personal."

She arched her eyebrow at him. "You would prefer that he not accompany me?"

He nodded. "It is not just him. We do not have spouses, partners, or even family members at our gatherings. It's just to limit the numbers. We are being welcomed into people's homes. Inviting others that the host does not know is rather rude. Besides, you will not be alone. I will be there, Aline will be there, and Paul and his circle that you met last time will also be there."

She nodded slowly. "That isn't a problem. Matthew's quite busy with working on his current project. He doesn't have much time for going out in the evenings, and he would likely be quite bored at a party like that. I'll just arrive with Aline."

He smiled and brought his knife forward to cut into his fish once again. "Excellent."

 **Audi'Art Lab, Quartier Saint Ambroise, 11e arrondissement, Paris, France, July 16, 2018**

 _'Go on. Do what you have to do,' Matthew said, raising his hands._

 _Rooney cringed and pointed her gun at him. 'You're just giving up, just like that?'_

 _'I won't hurt you, not over this. Too many people have died needlessly between our two families. It has to end somewhere,' he nodded._

 _'It won't! It'll just go on, and on! I kill you. Someone kills me. It'll just keep on, until…' she cried._

 _'Until someone is strong enough to resist,' he finished._

 _She bit her bottom lip, tears falling down her cheeks._

 _'It was all real for me, Jo," he nodded slowly. 'It's still real now.'_

Matthew frowned, pausing the playback and examining the image. He didn't like the angle of the camera shot. He didn't like the lighting. He didn't like what he was wearing. He didn't like how a stray lock of his hair fell down across his forehead.

"Fucking hell," he shook his head.

He had gone through his film several times now and was slowly trudging through the painful process of cutting and editing. Since the movie was filmed on such a tight schedule, there actually wasn't much to leave out. The running time was a tidy 110 minutes, and he was happy with that. He was even relatively satisfied with the order of the scenes and the way they were strung together. He was now going over every minute, seeing what he could change to improve the overall impact. Every time he changed one scene, he would then have to go back and see if it still fit in the overall sequence, and another scene would seem to demand a fix. With his budget essentially spent and filming over with, he didn't have the luxury of re-shoots or fresh audio dubbing. It would all come down to how he brought it all together.

It took him a while to get used to the equipment and programs used in post-production. Since he filmed in digital, it was easy enough to change things around and go back to the raw footage if he didn't like the result. That was part of the problem. It was too easy for him to wonder how something would look and go off and spend hours trying to figure it out.

He sat back in his chair and sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He needed a final print of the film so he could pitch it to distributors. His name, and Rooney's, would help, but the sooner he could get a polished product out to market, the better. He had no idea how the movie would be received, or even if anyone would care to watch it. At this point, he felt he needed to see this through to the end, whatever that might be. It was as though he couldn't move on with whatever his career held next unless he completed this project.

Taking a long sip of Coke, he rewound the film again to the beginning and pressed 'play' once more, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes as the opening music and scene unfolded.

 **Private Residence, Trocadéro, 16e arrondissement, Paris, France, July 30, 2018**

"This home belongs to Félix," Aline explained as they walked up the front stairs. "It's been in his family for generations."

Mary nodded, allowing one of the staff to take her wrap. With the heat in France, she chose a dark red strapless cocktail dress that stopped at her knees and matching high heels. She left her legs bare, completing her ensemble with a diamond necklace and earrings. When she went back to Downton last month, she brought some of her jewellery back with her, and she was glad for her foresight now. The last party featured many women dressed quite extravagantly, and though she didn't feel the need to compete, she didn't want to be entirely overshadowed, either.

"Chérie," Félix smiled, coming over and kissing Aline on both cheeks. "Welcome."

"Félix," Aline smiled. "You remember _Marie_ , of course?"

"But most certainly," he smiled, kissing Mary on both cheeks in greeting. "Welcome, welcome. I am pleased that Jean-Paul was able to convince you to come."

"He didn't need to do much convincing," Mary laughed. "Your home is beautiful, Félix."

"Thank you," he nodded. "I often end up giving tours to the guests at some point in the evening, after I have had enough wine. I shall take you around later. Chérie, there is someone that I want you to meet."

Aline nodded and smiled at Mary. "I'll see you later?"

Mary nodded and watched Aline take Félix's arm. He brought her over to a table of older gentlemen closer in age to him. He introduced her all around and they were soon seated together.

Mary stepped further into the ballroom, the layout similar to the last party she attended in Villa Montmorency. There were two poker tables this time, as well as a craps table. She saw Jean-Paul already playing. There seemed to be more women here this time, particularly around the games tables.

She noticed Paul with his usual cadre of friends, this time sitting on leather sofas and chairs around a coffee table. The usual cognac glasses were at the ready, a server standing off to the side waiting patiently. She smiled as she watched him guide the conversation, gesturing with his hands to make his point. He acted so differently here than he did on set. He was more relaxed and at ease, just as in control, but far less agitated and preoccupied.

She made her way over to him, accepting a champagne flute from a passing server.

" _Marie_ ," Paul smiled, holding up his hand to her. "Good night."

She smiled and sat down next to him, kissing him on both cheeks. "You seem to have staked out this area for yourselves."

He laughed and nodded, sipping his cognac slowly. "It helps to know the host. I told Félix that I did not want the round table this time. We need space, room to be comfortable."

The others laughed in agreement. A conversation on politics soon ensued, and Paul added his opinion here and there before turning to Mary.

"You were very good, today," he nodded. "I told you how I wanted the scene done and you did it. I was very impressed."

"You seem surprised," she joked, arching her eyebrow at him.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I have always told you. You are the star, _Marie_. I have been trying to show you what you can achieve here, and lately, I see that you begin to understand, no?"

"I have changed my approach a small bit," she acknowledged. "It's the result of having more time here, getting used to the way things are done, adapting to my surroundings."

"Continue, please," he smiled. "You set the example. Even if I have worked with others for longer, they still will look to you because you are the lead. If they see you taking direction easily, it helps me. It helps me immensely."

She smiled and nodded. "Pleased to be of service."

He laughed and sipped his drink.

She glanced around the room, taking in the beautiful décor and vintage accents. The space seemed to be taken straight from the Renaissance, and was wonderfully restored and maintained. She felt as if she was in a grand palace of the Royal Court.

Her eyes wandered over to Jean-Paul and his poker game. He wasn't smoking a cigar this time, and his face showed a more serious expression than the last time she watched him play.

"Jean-Paul mentioned you had dinner a few weeks ago," Paul noted.

"At Alain Ducasse," she nodded. "It was quite delicious."

"It is important to keep him on our side," he confirmed. "He is a good friend, but when it comes to money, friendship can be easily discounted. We must constantly show him that we are worth his investment. The more he trusts you, the better. I can tell him over and over how talented you are, but he has to appreciate you for himself, especially when there is a delay between filming and the release of the movies. He already knows Aline, of course, but she does not have a big part in this one. I could have her speak to him, though."

She nodded in understanding. "I believe that he and I get along well already, but I agree. He is an important ally. Leave him to me."

"He and others," he continued. "Even here, maybe especially here, there are always deals to be done and people to please so that we can have the freedom to create the art that we want. I have played these games for many years, but my name alone is not enough. Today, those in power want to see an entire package – director, actors, script – they need to be convinced that the project itself is worth supporting."

"Your name isn't enough on its own? I'm shocked," she teased.

He smiled and nodded. "I am not telling you anything you do not already know, yes? You come from aristocratic stock. You know about all of these games."

"I was born into them," she laughed. "Whether it be England, America, or France, there are some rules that do not change."

"Exact," he winked at her before sipping his drink.

She finished her champagne and put her empty glass on the coffee table. Nodding and smiling to the men, she rose and headed off towards Jean-Paul's table.

Paul watched her leave. He turned back and shared a knowing smile with his friends before they launched into another debate on France's place in Europe's economy.

* * *

"I'm sorry if I've neglected you," Mary smiled, leaning over and kissing Jean-Paul on both cheeks before she took her seat next to him. "I was just saying hello to Paul."

He smiled and nodded. "I knew you would arrive eventually."

She glanced at his stack of chips. Unlike the last game she witnessed, he wasn't leading in money amongst the players this time. A drink was placed before her and she nodded to the server before turning back to the table.

"Vodka tonic with lime," Jean-Paul smiled. "I thought you would like a change from champagne."

She smiled and lifted her glass to him. Sitting back so as not to disturb his concentration, she took a sip of the strong drink and followed the game.

While Jean-Paul had won a dramatic and expensive hand at the last party, she understood that poker was generally a war of attrition. There were far more hands where the players folded and lesser sums were exchanged than the big pots where fortunes were changed. She still couldn't believe these men were gambling with such exorbitant amounts, but for the most part the game was quite boring as it flowed along at a slow pace.

Jean-Paul would turn and smile at her, sometimes have a quick word as the cards were shuffled and dealt. For the most part though, he maintained his focus. She felt she couldn't simply rise and leave him, though. She wasn't foolish enough to think that her presence meant anything, but she did hold the theory that if he won and she was there to share it with him, that could only help endear her in his mind.

Besides, with Aline and Paul both occupied, she didn't quite feel like mingling with strangers.

"100," another player called, pushing his stack of chips into the centre of the table.

"Call," Jean-Paul replied, matching the bet.

Mary watched as the hand played out. The first man was more aggressive, raising the bet with each new card. Jean-Paul called twice to stay in the hand, but his stacks of chips were clearly inferior, and this seemed to embolden his opponent.

The fifth and final card was a three of diamonds, which likely was of no use to either player as it was the weakest card of the five.

"I call you all-in," the first man announced in French, an arrogant smile on his face. He glanced at Jean-Paul's remaining chips. "What is that? 1 million?"

"1,15," Jean-Paul replied, his expression betraying nothing as he looked at the cards on the table.

"I have you covered," the first man nodded. "What say you? Willing to try and double-up on this one hand?"

Jean-Paul kept examining the cards and his opponent, his eyes cold and steely grey. He seemed to be replaying the hand in his mind, looking for a clue as to what cards his opponent might have in his hand. The man was quite aggressive. Was he merely pretending to hold a strong position to try and muscle his opponents into conceding, or was it all a clever bluff?

It would cost Jean-Paul 1,15 million euros to find out.

"Jean-Paul," the man called. "I tell you what. I will have a side bet with you, a chance for you to win, say, another 500?"

Jean-Paul met the man's eyes for the first time since he challenged him for all of his remaining chips. "Side bet? On what? You put up another 500, and what do you want from me?"

"Something precious of course," the man grinned. He turned his smug expression on Mary. "If you win, you get 500 on top of the 1,15. If I win, your lovely girl comes to sit next to me for the rest of the game."

Mary pursed her lips, stifling a gasp. She glared at the man for a moment before turning to Jean-Paul.

He glanced at her, his mind seeming to work.

"I…" she began.

"The woman is not mine, or anyone's, to bet," he sneered, scowling at his rival. "I fold."

The man chuckled darkly and sat back, nodding his head as the dealer arranged his chips before him.

"What did you have?" Jean-Paul asked.

The man frowned, looking at him curiously. Mary knew it was quite uncommon to reveal one's cards after a victory.

"Queens," the man declared, turning over his cards. With the pair of eights on the table, that gave him two pair.

Jean-Paul nodded. "Well played," he said tightly.

The man chuckled and took a sip of his drink before turning and engaging in some banter with the other players, bragging about his aggressive manoeuvres.

Jean-Paul picked up his cards and pushed them towards the dealer without revealing them. They were quickly swept up and put into the deck to be reshuffled. As he picked them up off the felt table, though, Mary spied a black ace.

She blinked and glanced at Jean-Paul. If he had a pair of aces, that would have beaten his opponent's hand, and at the very least, he would surely have known that he had a very strong chance to win. His opponent would have to have an eight to beat him.

"One more thing before we continue," Jean-Paul called, looking down at his chips. "You will apologize to the lady."

The other man stopped talking for a moment and frowned at Jean-Paul. "What?"

"The lady," Jean-Paul replied, nodding towards Mary. "She is not mine, or anyone's, to bet. It is disrespectful to speak of her in such terms, to even assume that she would be agreeable to such an arrangement. You will apologize to her before we continue. Apologize to her now, or the game stops."

Her heartbeat jumped at Jean-Paul's firm tone and hard stare at his opponent.

The man looked at the other players searchingly before clearing his throat and playing with his chips.

"I apologize," he mumbled.

"Her name is _Marie_. That is Lady _Marie_ to you. Apologize to her properly," Jean-Paul pressed.

Mary was about to say it was all right. The man, so boastful and full of himself mere seconds ago, now appeared to cower.

"Lady Marie," the man stammered, meeting her eyes. "I apologize for my words to you earlier. Please know I did not mean anything by them. I am sorry for the insult."

She nodded slowly.

"Deal," Jean-Paul ordered.

Mary took another sip of her drink as the cards were dealt. The game continued for over an hour more before they took a break, and Jean-Paul's stack remained essentially the same. Despite watching patiently and having several friendly chats with him, she couldn't shake the thought of what transpired from her mind – the audacity of the stranger to assume she was property to be wagered, and Jean-Paul's fierce defence of her honour.

* * *

"Good night. Thank you for the invitation. I enjoyed myself even more than last time," Mary smiled, kissing Jean-Paul on both cheeks.

"I'm glad. I know you are traveling over the next while. I believe there should be another gathering before you leave for Montréal," he advised.

"I shall look forward to it," she nodded, smiling as he helped put her wrap over her shoulders.

She smiled at Paul and left the house with Aline, the two of them walking down the steps to the waiting limo.

"How was your evening with _Marie_?" Félix asked, coming to Jean-Paul's side.

"Very enjoyable," Jean-Paul nodded. The two of them turned and walked back into the house with Paul. They moved into a smaller parlour where several of the guests remained, seated around a large table, sipping their drinks.

"Did you give her the tour of the house?" Paul asked, looking at Félix.

Félix nodded. "She came along with a group of four. She seemed to like the place, though I'm sure it takes a great deal to impress her if this Downton Abbey is as large as you say it is."

"All the same, it is a help," Paul noted. "She is already comfortable with Jean-Paul. She now knows you better than she did before. It is good."

"I hope so," Félix replied. "She is young, beautiful, British and soon-to-be married. It is a remarkable combination."

"An expensive one," Jean-Paul smiled, taking up his glass of cognac. "She needs time, though."

"Not too long, I should hope," Félix chuckled.

Paul smiled. "A bit more. We have some time with her yet."

Félix nodded and gestured to the men around them. "Good. I have already received inquiries from these men here."

Paul looked at Jean-Paul knowingly before answering Félix. "Leave her to us. Now, you need to get going or you will be late. You know that Aline hates to wait."

Félix laughed and adjusted his tie. He patted Paul on the back and walked away.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, July 30, 2018**

Mary swayed slightly and giggled as she came into the apartment. She shushed herself, then giggled again. Taking off her heels, she sashayed into the living room and ambled over to the sofa where Matthew was frowning at his laptop screen.

"You're back. How was it?" he asked, not looking up from his computer.

"Simply divine, yes," she drawled, coming over and sitting down next to him. She shuffled towards him and kissed his cheek. "Hello, darling."

He smirked and looked at her, the alcohol strong on her breath. "Well, I can tell that you clearly enjoyed the open bar."

She pouted and frowned at him. "What are you trying to say? You think I'm drunk?"

"I don't just think you are," he chuckled, putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her to him. "Well, I'm glad you had fun. You've been working so very hard all month. I think you've had maybe two days where you weren't on the call sheet."

"You've been working too hard, and I don't like it," she whinged, snuggling against him. "I hate coming home to an empty apartment. You spend more time at that editing suite than you do here."

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm actually quite close to wrapping the damn thing up. I should have it all finished by the time we head to Montréal next month," he smiled.

"Good," she huffed. "If I didn't know better, I would think you've been hiding from me over there."

"Yes, that's it," he nodded in amusement. "Alex and I use the space to indulge in all manner of debauchery. Drugs, women, you name it."

"And what do those stupid whores do for you that I don't?" she snapped, sitting up and glaring at him.

He smiled at her drunken righteousness. "Nothing, darling. You know you're the only one for me."

"Mmm, well I should like to be reminded," she smirked, clumsily moving over him and straddling his lap.

"Erm, all right, then," he managed, reaching around her and closing his laptop before he took hold of her ass and pulled her towards him.

"Matthew, I want to try something new tonight," she whispered sultrily, leaning down and licking his ear.

"And what's that?" he struggled, his arousal flaring at the press of her body. Her hips shifted back and forth against him, her breasts were warm against his chest, her thin dress revealing plenty of her pale skin to his roaming eyes.

"I want you to pay me for it," she rasped. "Pretend that I'm an expensive escort, a whore that you often book whenever you're in town on business."

"Uh, well then," he swallowed shakily. "And what's your name?"

She laughed huskily. "Anything you want it to be, _monsieur_."

He smiled. "Well, tonight, I want you to be this woman that I've loved for years, but could never have. Can you be her? Her name is Mary."

She grinned and kissed his cheek. " _Absolument_. I'll be your Mary. But first, we must talk business, no?"

He looked up at her in confusion.

She arched her eyebrow and held her hand out to him. "Business."

"Ah! Yes, well, business," he nodded. "I'll…um…pay you my…erm…going rate. The same as you got last time."

She smiled, a jolt of arousal going through her at the depraved thought of Matthew paying her for sex. "But this time is special, _monsieur_. If you want me to be this Mary, then you must pay more."

He frowned at her for a moment before smiling at her devilishly. He reached up and caressed her nape and the back of her head, drawing her down to his lips.

"I'll pay you double," he whispered, kissing her.

She felt a warm flutter in her chest. "Double? That does sound appealing. And your usual time, as well? You normally only want me for half an hour."

He scoffed, frowning at her in annoyance and breaking character. "Not even an hour, Mary? Really?"

She arched her eyebrow and stuck her tongue out at him.

He shook his head and grunted. "I changed my mind. 100,000 euros, all for you. I want you for the entire night."

She blinked in genuine shock. She had no clue what the going rate for an escort was, but 100,000 euros for a night with her did sound so very scandalous.

"100,000 euros. Deal," she nodded.

"Deal," he grinned, kissing her again and parting her lips with his tongue.

"Does your Mary look like me?" she asked, moaning as he pressed hot kisses to her neck.

"I'm afraid you could never look entirely like her, though it's no fault of your own," he replied. "She's the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Mmm," she hummed, holding on to his shoulders. " _Monsieur_ Crawley, you say the sweetest things. What else? Tell me about her so I can be her for you."

"Some would say she's cold, but I know differently," he continued, kissing his way down to her cleavage. "She's warm and caring, and when she does let you in, she's fiercely loyal."

"I can be warm," she replied shakily. "I'll let you in, _monsieur_. Tell me, how is Mary in bed? Is she a good lover?"

"It is to my deepest regret that I cannot say," he pretended, sitting back and smiling up at her. "I've never had the honour of being with her."

"Then how is she in your mind?" she asked, unbuttoning his shirt and pressing light kisses to his chest. She sat up and undid the zipper on the back of her dress, working it down her body to bunch at her hips. "Is she a good girl, or a bad girl?"

He smiled. "Definitely a bad girl."

She grinned and nodded. "Good answer."

She undid her bra and tossed it aside. Taking hold of his head, she brought him to her, arching her back and sighing as he kissed her breasts.

He lifted his head and smiled at her, his hand tangling in her hair as he kissed her again. "Call me Matthew."

"Matthew," she breathed, kissing him back, her tongue dueling with his sloppily. "You've paid for the whole night. I'm yours until morning."

"We had best get moving, then," he smiled, standing up and taking her with him. "It's already past midnight."

"Matthew, you're so strong!" she drawled, locking her arms and legs around him as he turned for the hallway.

"You have no idea, Mary," he retorted, carrying her quickly down the hall to their bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, July 30, 2018**

"Then how is she in your mind?" she asked, unbuttoning his shirt and pressing light kisses to his chest. She sat up and undid the zipper on the back of her dress, working it down her body to bunch at her hips. "Is she a good girl, or a bad girl?"

He smiled. "Definitely a bad girl."

She grinned and nodded. "Good answer."

She undid her bra and tossed it aside. Taking hold of his head, she brought him to her, arching her back and sighing as he kissed her breasts.

He lifted his head and smiled at her, his hand tangling in her hair as he kissed her again. "Call me Matthew."

"Matthew," she breathed, kissing him back, her tongue dueling with his sloppily. "You've paid for the whole night. I'm yours until morning."

"We had best get moving, then," he smiled, standing up and taking her with him. "It's already past midnight."

"Matthew, you're so strong!" she drawled, locking her arms and legs around him as he turned for the hallway.

"You have no idea, Mary," he retorted, carrying her quickly down the hall to their bedroom.

 **Chapter 9:**

 **Townhouse of Dr. Sybil Crawley and Tom Branson, Brooklyn, New York, USA, August 10, 2018**

"What are you on about? Darling, of course we're coming up. It's your premiere," Sybil frowned, glaring at Matthew's image on her tablet screen.

He sighed. "It's really not that important. You've been traveling so much lately, and you'll be flying to London in less than a month's time. I just don't want you wearing yourself out, is all."

She smirked. "That's very sweet, and I love you for thinking of me, but I'm fine, honestly. Did Tom put you up to this?"

He blinked. "No. I'm just concerned, that's all. I'd rather you be in full form for the wedding than come up for a silly movie night in Toronto. You just started back at work and it might take you some time to get up to your former breakneck speed."

"Mmm hmm," she arched her eyebrow suspiciously. "Well, you and my husband can both relax. Ever since Emma began sleeping through the night, I feel reinvigorated. I was even thinking of heading to Montréal for Mary's premiere."

"Now, now, don't extend yourself. Tom said that Emma still wakes up a couple of times every night," he replied.

"Aha! So you have been talking to him!" she accused.

"Of course, I talk to him!" he answered defensively. "Look, just be careful, please. For me."

She rolled her eyes. "I hate it when you give me those damn puppy dog eyes. That's so unfair!"

"Because you love me," he smirked.

"Yes, yes, I love you, you idiot," she grumbled. "Fine. I'll come up to Toronto and that's it. Between that short visit and heading back to London a week before the wedding, there should be plenty of time to rest up. I'm only back at the hospital part-time anyway. Happy?"

"You always make me happy, Sybil," he smiled.

"God, you," she shook her head. "Now what else? What's going on for your stag?"

He frowned. "What do you mean? I'm not having one."

She looked at him in disbelief. "What? You're not having a stag? But why ever not?"

"Because I have no use for getting shit faced drunk and going to a strip club," he replied easily.

"Pity. That's what we're doing," she shrugged.

He frowned again. "No need to share, thank you."

"At least do something, darling," she pleaded. "I know you place no value on the last days of your bachelorhood, but you really ought to have a proper night out with the lads."

"I'm sure that Alex and Tom will plan something, but I've already told them I don't want any strippers, or nightclubs, or any of that nonsense," he huffed.

"Well, that makes it easy for them," she deadpanned. "The library, it is."

"I'd be fine with that. Trust me, I have plenty of bad memories of Tom's stag to last me a lifetime," he remarked.

She laughed. "I warned you that he has a tendency to share a bit too much when he gets really smashed."

"He certainly does," he shook his head. "He's almost as bad as you are."

"Oh, it's not even close," she smiled. "Now, speaking of sharing, what do I have to do to find out more about your movie?"

He huffed and gave her a rueful smile. "All right. Well, it's done, such as it is. I've finished it. I've sent it off to a few people to look at. It will hopefully interest people enough to take some meetings in Montreal and Toronto during the film festivals and see if I can't fool someone into distributing it."

"It's got you and Rooney Mara. Surely, it won't be a hard sell?" she questioned.

"Let's hope so," he shrugged. "Otherwise I've wasted the past eight months or more when I could have been working."

 **Private Residence, Neuilly-sur-Seine, Nanterre, France, August 19, 2018**

"What do you think of Jean-Paul?" Aline asked, checking her lipstick in the mirror.

"What does it matter?" Mary replied, looking at her reflection in the mirror and tucking some loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

"Well, do you find him nice?" Aline posed, turning away from the mirror and looking at Mary.

"He's nice enough," Mary answered. "Why?"

"He likes you," Aline nodded. "He hasn't let you leave his side the past few parties."

Mary smiled in amusement. "I don't believe it's a question of letting me leave his side, or not. He's happy to allow me to remain there. I don't think he minds one way, or the other."

Aline stared in surprise. "Lady _Marie_ Crawley selling herself short? Impossible."

Mary laughed. "No, it isn't that. Jean-Paul doesn't like to chase – whether it be women, money, power, whatever. He waits for everything to come to him. He's smart enough to know where things stand between us. We're trying to keep him interested as an investor. He gets to show me off to others at the party, for whatever that's worth, and he probably prefers my company to some of the other women here. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."

Aline smiled. "That's very progressive of you."

"Not really. I was taught how to behave at parties from a young age. Society life in England demands it," Mary noted. "This is no different, even if the setting is changed. It's all about the smile."

"You English put so much emphasis on gestures and image," Aline shook her head.

"Is it not the same with you and Félix?" Mary asked. "You're usually at his side."

Aline laughed. "He works for the Minister of Culture. They influence the tax rebate schemes here. It is important to have him on our side, his colleagues and bosses also."

Mary nodded. "So does it matter if you like him? It's about as important as whether or not I like Jean-Paul. So long as they remain friendly, whether we like them, or not, doesn't matter."

"Maybe, but I do like him," Aline smirked. "It makes things easier, no? If you are going to spend most of the evening with a man, better to like him than not."

Mary arched her eyebrow at her curiously. "Passing a few hours smiling and pretending to be enjoying yourself is hardly a burden. I like to think of it as another type of role that we play."

Aline laughed. "That's a very healthy attitude to have, _Marie_ , and very useful."

"We are professionals, aren't we?" Mary joked, turning and leading the way out of the ladies' room. "Truly, it is a fine party, so amusing ourselves isn't difficult. The schmoozing and such is a part of what is required of us. Our presence serves a purpose, no different from Paul and his talk of politics. A few smiles, a laugh, some friendly conversation – it leaves an impression, makes Félix and others feel good about their time spent here, and in turn, they see all of us in a positive light. Like with any audience, we try to capture their attention through our performance, to be memorable, and we all benefit as a result."

Aline smiled, following her out. "I could not agree more."

* * *

"Well, Minister?" Jean-Paul asked in French, looking at the politician inquisitively. "What say you?"

Xavier Rémy smiled before replying. The French Minister of Culture was a man in his late fifties, with light chocolate-coloured skin as a result of his mixed French and Senegalese heritage. Tall and lanky, Xavier looked like he could be an accountant or librarian, and when he finally answered, his voice was deep and smooth.

"Well, your _Marie_ is quite…beautiful, yes," he grunted, glancing over at Félix and smiling knowingly.

"She is," Félix nodded. "Better yet, Minister, she is to be married next month."

The Minister blinked. "Married, you say? My, my."

"Minister," Paul added. "I have already done two films with her, and we are now working on a third. She will be most in-demand by as early as next year. The British aristocrat who rose to fame in France. It is a wonderful idea, yes?"

"Leaving Britain and America behind for France," Xavier smiled. "Yes, wonderful, indeed."

"So you would be interested in finding out more about the projects that she is involved in with us?" Jean-Paul asked.

"I would, yes," the Minister nodded. "After she returns from her wedding, I would be pleased to meet with her."

" _Marie_ is special, Minister," Paul cautioned. "She holds herself higher than most. It will take some effort – parties, dinners, conversations – before she is truly ready for you or anyone else. We have the premiere of _Orlena_ in November. I would look to that time."

Xavier contemplated this carefully. "I have seen enough, and heard enough, to agree that she is worth the wait."

"You won't be abandoned in the interim," Jean-Paul assured him. "Think of her as something to look forward to, beyond what you already enjoy."

Félix smiled.

"Very good," the Minister nodded.

The men all looked over as Aline and Mary re-joined the party.

"Let us drop any further talk of business," Paul nodded. " _Marie_ would prefer a friendly chat, I'm sure."

Xavier smiled. "Very good. Oh, and about those applications and audits we were discussing earlier? Leave them to me. They will be handled properly, after my meetings with her."

"Excellent," Jean-Paul smiled, sharing a knowing glance with Paul and Félix.

Mary and Aline reached their circle. Mary stood between Paul and Jean-Paul and Aline went to Félix. Champagne was brought over and served while the party continued to buzz, the other guests laughing and chatting away while the music played.

"Not playing poker tonight, Jean-Paul?" Mary teased, smiling at him.

"Actually, we were going to start a game in a little bit. The Minister plays, as well. He's quite good," Jean-Paul answered, nodding towards the older man.

"Ah, well that should be entertaining to watch," she replied, smiling politely to Xavier. Paul had mentioned the man before, one of Félix's superiors. He was rather powerful within the French film industry and she had seen him at past gatherings over the summer. He was just a bit taller than Jean-Paul and the others, she noted, and there was a melodious quality to his deep voice that was quite unique. "Are you up for it, sir?"

"I always love a challenge," Xavier nodded, smiling at her smugly.

* * *

"What do you think of Xavier, the Minister?" Jean-Paul asked, walking with Mary towards the foyer at the front of the house. The party was still ongoing in the ballroom, but she and Aline decided to take their leave.

"He's nice enough. Why?" Mary smirked.

"I worry about the guests, sometimes. It is important that they enjoy themselves at our gatherings. I'm sure you understand how vital he is to us – to me, to Paul, to you," he stated, watching her closely.

She smiled at him and nodded. "It would be quite difficult for you to cover the additional cost of Paul's productions without the tax rebates offered by the government. Xavier favours you, for now, and you want that to continue."

He chuckled and nodded. "Precisely, _Marie_."

"Which is why Aline is friendly with Félix, so he can put in a good word for your group with the Minister," she continued.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"But you don't trust her to befriend Xavier herself?" she questioned.

He smirked. "Aline is wonderful. She's not you. She's not the star. Attempting to impress Xavier with a minor actress would be quite foolish. He is an intellectual, first. He does not care for any of the models or football players who come here. He sees nothing in common with them, and their presence does not affect his ego. He can appreciate beauty, yes, but he would not be impressed by it. That is why he enjoys speaking with you. You are not only the star of Paul's films, but there is more to you than just a pretty face."

She looked down, barely hiding her smile at his compliment.

"I hope that I can continue to rely upon you," he said softly. "To continue to play your part, for all of our benefit."

"You ask a great deal of me," she warned. "I've finished two films for Paul, and the third is almost done. Who's to say that I'll do any more with him?"

He smiled. "You most certainly could."

"If I wanted to, which I may not," she replied. "And if I do not, coming to these parties, and recommending you and Paul to Xavier, wouldn't necessarily serve any purpose for me."

"That is true," he admitted easily, smiling all the while. "However, _Duplicity_ still needs to be promoted, marketed and distributed. Government assistance would help with that. It may even facilitate bringing the film to America."

She looked at him carefully. "Paul has no interest in playing his films in America. We both know that."

"He doesn't, but then he is beholden to me, as it is I who has financed his film. A contribution from the government in the way of a significant tax rebate would encourage me to spend more to make sure that you receive the exposure that you deserve," he nodded.

She smiled. "And if I were to keep Xavier in support of your cause, you would be beholden to me."

He laughed. "In a manner of speaking, I suppose that is true. Help me get what I want, and I will do my utmost to get you what you want."

"And what would you know about what I want?" she asked, her eyes bright and playful.

"It's clear – you want to be welcomed back to Hollywood. Now, I believe that you are far better off here with us, but I can appreciate that you would like to at least have the option. Help me with Xavier, and you'll be attending a premiere in New York or Los Angeles, rather than a small one in Montréal," he stated firmly.

She arched her eyebrow, weighing his words.

He smiled and leaned towards her. Taking hold of her arms, he kissed her on both cheeks. "Good night, _Marie_."

She kissed him back automatically. "Good night, Jean-Paul."

Aline came up to them and bid goodbye to Jean-Paul. Taking Mary's arm, she escorted her out the door and down the walkway to the waiting car at the kerb, the two of them whispering and laughing together.

Jean-Paul watched them go, a devilish smile on his face.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, August 19, 2018**

"So, nothing?" Alex asked.

"Nothing," Matthew grumbled, frowning and shaking his head. "I followed up and even suggested a meeting, but no one was interested."

Anna looked over at her husband worriedly.

"It's just the first round," Alex assured him patiently. "These things take time."

"That's what Rooney said," Matthew muttered. "She's done films that didn't get released for two years after she finished."

"Exactly," Anna nodded.

"I didn't point out to her that generally that's a sign that the movie isn't very good," Matthew sighed, sipping his Coke.

Alex glanced over at Anna and shrugged.

"I don't know why you won't let Alex help you, Matthew," Anna began. "Just think of him as another investor, that's all."

"No," Matthew shook his head and waved his finger in objection. "I've seen what happens when friends and family quarrel over money. I won't do it. Besides, how can I in good conscience take your money when all these other investors clearly have no faith in what I've made?"

"Why don't you let us worry about that? It's not your decision as to how we spend our money," Alex countered.

"But it is as to whether or not I accept, and I do not," Matthew replied. "I appreciate it, really. But I wouldn't take your money, just like I wouldn't take Mary's or Robert's, even if they offered. Even if it worked out, and the film was successful, it would be more of a relief than anything else. And if it doesn't…"

"He's scared that I'll never let him live it down," Alex joked, reaching over and squeezing Anna's hand. "That I'll crush him over it for years to come."

"That is on the list of fears, yes," Matthew confirmed with a rueful smile.

"Matthew, I know you don't want to hear this, but you're going to have to step out of your comfort zone a little bit if you want to get people's attention. I'm sure your movie is very good, but most of these investors aren't going to spend the time to really pay attention to it. All they'll see is your name, and Rooney's, and they'll think they can make X amount of dollars back. It might turn around, but so far, that's not enough of an incentive for them, clearly," Anna explained.

"You're right, so how do I get them to see Y, instead?" Matthew asked.

Anna glanced at Alex before answering. "You're going to have to dazzle them. When you pitch your film, you have to make them believe in it as much as you do. I know you sent out emails and that's all well and good, but emails aren't going to impress anyone."

"Fair enough," Matthew nodded. "But if I can't even get them to take a meeting, what else can I do?"

"I know you hate doing this, but you're going to have pitch them when you're in Toronto. Don't wait for a meeting. You and Rooney have a gala premiere already scheduled. Studio executives and investors are going to be there. There's your meeting," Alex suggested.

Matthew frowned. "How am I supposed to meet with them at a movie premiere?"

Anna smiled. "A friendly word when you see them on the red carpet, a follow-up inside the theatre, and another approach at the after-party. There's loads of opportunities, so long as you're aware of them."

Matthew huffed in frustration. "That's barely enough time to make an impression."

"Until they agree to give you some time in a boardroom or restaurant for a proper meeting, it's all you've got," Alex informed him. "And yes, a kind word or two from the handsome Oscar winner can't hurt. If they like _The Disciple_ , or see the buzz it gets, well, how convenient – you just happen to have another movie with you and Rooney in it that they can get in on."

Matthew rubbed his hand over his eyes tiredly. He was about to retort when his phone buzzed with Mary's custom ringtone.

"Mary's on her way back. I had better go," Matthew declared, reading her text. He finished his Coke and got up from the table. "Thanks for dinner, and the advice. I mean it."

"That's what we're here for," Alex joked, slapping hands with Matthew twice and bumping fists with him.

"Good night," Anna smiled, kissing him on the cheek before he turned and left the apartment.

"For someone who's won so much already, he's rather daft when it comes to the business," Anna shook her head at her husband when they were alone again. "He couldn't have expected anyone to spend millions of dollars on the marketing and distribution just cause his name's on it?"

"He's an actor, not a businessman. He thinks that hard work at his craft is all that's required. It's not an uncommon belief," Alex replied, taking her hand and leading her down the hallway.

"It's still not the way to go if you're a writer/director of a movie with no marketing or distribution," she shrugged, letting him lead her back to their bedroom.

"This is all very new to him. He's not like Mary. He's not used to the game, the promotional machine," Alex remarked. He turned her around to face the mirror on the wall and began undressing her.

"He'll need to learn, and quickly," she replied, smiling as he removed her top and ran his fingers down her body to the zipper of her skirt. "We all can't be independent and carefree like you, babes."

"I'm independent? Carefree? Says who?" he asked, frowning and kissing her bare shoulder.

"Says the man who controls the money, who doesn't care if his clients leave him or not, since he's already made his millions. Says you," she teased.

"I disagree. I have the most demanding of bosses to answer to," he whispered, undoing her skirt and dropping it to the floor.

"Mrs. Chen, you mean?" she joked, humming in pleasure as his hands ghosted across her silk panties and up to her bra.

"Not her," he growled. "You, love."

She laughed and closed her eyes, leaning back against him as caressed her skin.

"Montréal is shaping up to be a bit of a waste," she shook her head. "With Matthew not taking any meetings and Mary's premiere being rather small, it's a wonder we're going over there at all."

"Well, look on the bright side. As a result, we now have far more time to enjoy the city," he smirked.

"Do we?" she asked, turning around wearing and setting to work on his clothes. "And what exactly will we be getting up to, Mr. Lewis?"

He grinned and kissed her as she unbuttoned his shirt. "Oh, I don't know. It is quite a romantic city. Maybe we'll be inspired?"

"Mmm, well right now, you can be inspired to run us a bath," she said. "And be quick about it."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded.

She laughed and allowed him to pick her up off the floor. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him playfully as he walked them into the bathroom.

 **Montréal World Film Festival, Cinéma Impérial, Downtown Montréal, Canada, August 28, 2018**

Mary took a deep breath as the driver brought the car to a halt metres away from the red carpet. In comparison to other film festivals, Montréal's lacked the prestige and scope of others. The fact that Toronto's, one of the biggest in the world, was next week, did it no favours. It was always touch-and-go as to whether the event would come off or not, the last-minute search for sponsors and worthy submissions a hard fight, whereas major motion pictures clamoured to get into Toronto, to the point they had to limit the number of entries.

The crowds outside were fair enough. There was still a demand here for French films, particularly those from the esteemed Paul Chaput. She didn't know if this reception would register outside of Canada. The limited release in New York and Los Angeles had already come and gone without much of a ripple. Even in her own mind, it was difficult to get excited over a film she'd finished last year. Her focus was already on _Orlena_ in November, and _Duplicity_ beyond that.

"You can take as long as you like," Anna advised, checking her phone for instructions. "They won't start until you're inside."

Mary nodded as she glanced at the scattering of media and paparazzi standing at the barriers. Vincent was already outside and waving to the fans. Paul wasn't here, unsurprisingly. She had seen Xavier earlier in the day at the press conference. He was in the city briefly to promote France as a filming location. They had a pleasant conversation, and she expected he would be at the after-party. She recalled Jean-Paul's words when she saw the French Minister. It was easy enough to entertain him. She barely had anything to do here as it was.

Still, this was a chance for free publicity, and her photograph would be all over the Internet, at least for tonight. Putting her best smile on, she nodded to her assistant and Anna instructed the driver that they were ready.

The cheers met her when she got out of the car. She smiled and waved, walking clear of the car and stopping to give the cameras a chance to capture her. Anna led her over to the barriers and she signed autographs and posed for selfies, thanking the fans in French. She kept moving, never lingering long enough for anyone to reach out and grasp her, smiling and nodding all the way along.

The familiar shot of adrenaline hit her once she reached the designated photo area opposite the paparazzi. The flashes went off and she stood tall, chin raised, hand on her hip, lips pursed. Vincent came out to pose with her and she relaxed a bit, smiling and laughing with him at just the right moment for the photographers to record the moment.

The location didn't matter. The lack of fanfare in comparison to other premieres wasn't important. The fleeting nature of the moment never crossed her mind. For now, she was a movie star, and she was determined to enjoy it accordingly.

* * *

Matthew sipped his Coke, glancing around the lobby area. The cacophony from outside told him Mary had finally arrived. He and Alex had come over early and snuck in the backdoor. As ridiculous as it sounded, he didn't want to take any of the attention away from Mary. He remembered back to the premiere in Paris. He didn't think anyone would even know who he was, let alone want photographs of him, but the amount of focus he drew from the media, fans and paparazzi was startling. Mary hadn't said a word, but he knew she was thrown a bit, as he was.

He told her that he would meet her at the theatre and she didn't object. It was more important that he support her as best he could, rather than get another photo op. Really, he enjoyed it more this way. Once they got to Toronto, he would be under the microscope once again.

Mary finally came into view as she arrived in front of the entrance doors and posed for photographs. She glowed, moving so easily and smoothly, sophisticated and elegant one moment, casual and amused the next. Growing up, he was always amused at how much Cora and Violet emphasized etiquette and proper behaviour to Mary and her sisters. Sybil hated those lessons, and it was hilarious watching the three of them spending hours on the proper fork to use at dinner and walking with books on their heads. Now, though, he grudgingly admitted it had all served Mary well. She owned the place.

Eventually, she and Vincent came inside. She came over and greeted him with a quick kiss.

"All right?" she asked, her eyes bright with the excitement of the evening and all the attention she was receiving.

"All good," he nodded, taking her hand and following her through.

 **Kondiaronk Bélvèdere Lookout, Mont-Royal, Montréal, Canada, August 29, 2018**

"Babes! Slow down!" Anna laughed, trying to hold Alex back as he pulled her impatiently along the pavement towards the lookout point.

"Come on, Anna!" he snapped. "There will be tourists all over the place soon!"

She smiled and shook her head, allowing him to lead her down the stairs and across the wide courtyard to the stone terrace. The top of the mountain had a spectacular view of the city. The entire skyline, St. Lawrence river and kilometres beyond were all visible on a clear day. Years ago, he had brought her up here and they found a secluded spot further into the park, and it was there that he proposed.

She laughed when they reached the terrace. Stepping behind her, he put his arms around her and they gazed out across the sun-drenched city.

"As beautiful as you remember it?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.

She glanced down at her wedding band and diamond engagement ring. "Mmm hmm," she nodded. "This place could never be anything but for me. Even if it was cloudy and raining, or covered in snow, it'll always be magical."

He turned her around and smiled at her before pulling her to him for a kiss. She put her arms around him and arched her back. They were hardly alone, but it didn't matter. She kind of liked it when he showed her off.

"Alex!" she yelped as he picked her up and sat her on the stone terrace. She clutched on to him tightly, glancing over her shoulder at the rather precipitous drop behind her.

"I've got you, love," he smiled, drawing her attention. "I won't let you go."

She smiled at his adoring face and nodded. "I know that. You've always told me, but I think I finally believe it."

He smiled and kissed her again.

She took out her phone and held it up, tilting it just so to find the perfect angle. He nuzzled her neck and face, casting a sideways glance at her phone, a knowing smirk on his lips. She took a few different shots, making sure she got the city in the background. Eventually he did turn and pose for a proper shot, the two of them grinning widely.

" _Back to the place where I said yes to this one!_ " she typed, adding a few hashtags and the kiss and heart eyes emojis for good measure.

"That's not a bad shot," he noted.

She turned to him and kissed him softly. Holding him close, she sighed contentedly and looked out across the city again. "We've been through a lot together since that day you proposed, haven't we? Did you ever think being married to me would be like this?"

She kept her eyes on the city, suddenly afraid to look at him. The emotion of being here had made her a bit reckless and she hadn't caught herself in time. _Been through a lot?_ Yeah, that was a good choice of words. _So, Alex, when you married me, did you ever think that I would have problems getting pregnant and almost cheat on you? No? Well, surprise!_

He waited for her to look at him, knowing that eventually her curiosity would force her to. She did, turning her grey-blue eyes to him. A nervous smile graced her lips, and he knew the turmoil bubbling inside of her.

"Actually, yeah. Yeah, I did. The exact things we've been through, I didn't imagine all of that. But I always knew that being married to you would be amazing, and it has been, and it still is, and it will always be," he nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving hers.

She grinned and kissed him quickly. "I love you, babes."

"I love you, too," he answered, reaching up and caressing her face.

She covered his hand with hers, the warmth of his touch flowing through her.

"You and me, right?" she whispered.

He nodded. "You and me, always."

She kissed him again, a part of her hoping that the tourists and visitors around them would notice. No, their marriage wasn't perfect, but it was the best one she knew, so why be embarrassed by it at all?

"Where's my gift?" she asked, smiling against his lips.

He drew back and looked at her suspiciously. "Gift?"

"I know you got me something," she teased. "Is it waiting back at the hotel, perhaps?"

"And why would you think I got you a gift?" he asked, smiling confidently. "We don't celebrate the date of our engagement at all."

"For putting up with you," she retorted, kissing him again playfully. "Doesn't that deserve a reward?"

He laughed and kissed her back. "Well, since you put it that way, you're probably right. But, if we're giving gifts for tolerance, I should probably get one as well, right?"

She snorted derisively, though her smile remained. "I might have gotten you something."

"Back at the hotel?" he guessed.

She nodded, her smile innocent but her eyes wicked. "Yeah, let's head back and exchange gifts."

He kissed her for a moment longer before helping her down from the terrace and taking her hand. They shuffled off towards the car, both of them walking briskly in anticipation.

 **Roy Thomson Hall, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 8, 2018**

 _'Rooney! Rooney! This way! This way! Matthew! Please! Matthew! To your left!'_

Mary stood patiently by as Matthew took his photo call with Rooney. Sir Ben Kingsley was further up the red carpet chatting to reporters with Gareth, the director of their film. Matthew's movie wasn't the event that other larger profile films were, but he did have an evening gala premiere slot at the festival, and the medium-size crowd was quite vocal. At premieres that they attended in the past, he was a part of it, but the movie itself was always larger. _Shattered_ was about the cast as a whole, the 4 main players. _Black Panther_ was a Marvel film that he only had a small role in. Tonight, however, she got the feeling that the majority of the people here, and easily all of the women, were here just to see him. Sir Ben Kingsley was a legend, and Rooney had won Best Actress at Cannes a few years ago, in addition to the multiple Golden Globe and Oscar nominations she had, but it seemed as if this premiere was all about Matthew.

He leaned over and whispered something to Rooney and she laughed, pursing her lips to remain composed. She was noticeably shorter than him, even in heels, but they were quite photogenic together. His blond hair and her dark brown. His tall and fit body next to her sylphlike frame. Not for the first time Mary imagined they must have got along quite well during filming for Matthew's movie, _10 Days_ , shot just down the street from here in June. They certainly had everyone's attention now.

" _etalk_ wants to have a quick word. Over here," Anna informed her, touching her back and nudging her in the right direction.

Mary nodded and smiled, taking her eyes away from Matthew and walking confidently to the barrier where the interviewer waited for her.

"Hi! God, it's been so long!" Mary gushed, squeezing the woman's hand when she reached her. She had gotten to know the entertainment media rather well during her years here.

"Hello, you are looking gorgeous, as always! Now, what are you most looking forward to about the movie? I hear you might have a bit of a crush on the lead actor?" the reporter asked, sticking her microphone in Mary's face.

"Yes, definitely, definitely, a huge crush, massive," Mary nodded, taking the question easily. "You know, I'm really looking forward to seeing how it all plays out. It's a really interesting story and Matthew always wanted to work with Gareth, and it's such a great cast, with Sir Ben Kingsley and Rooney Mara, so it should be fantastic, yes."

"Is it kind of fun for you to be here as more of a fan? You're so used to walking the red carpet for one of your movies, but you get to kind of relax and enjoy this one a bit more," the reporter asked.

"Yes, there's certainly less to do, which is nice," Mary replied. "I still get to dress up and see all these amazing fans and enjoy a good time out, but he's the one working, not me."

"Exactly!" the reported cackled. "You can sit back and do all the fun stuff while he handles the rest."

Mary grinned and nodded. "That's just it. 'Darling, go on and go to work'. No, it's great for both of us. We love it here and it's always fun to come back."

Mary nodded and squeezed the reporter's hand again before moving on. Not one question about what she was up to next. Not one question about what was coming in her career. She continued to smile, thinking sarcastically that at least she didn't have to answer any wedding questions.

"They're going to do cast photos, and we'll go straight in after that," Anna advised, taking hold of Mary's elbow to stop her from continuing down the red carpet.

Mary paused, looking on as Matthew posed for photos with the rest of the cast in front of the giant movie poster. He smiled, his blue eyes glowing from all the camera flashes on him. He looked taller somehow, more confident, more calm. His Armani suit fit him perfectly, and his hair had just enough styling and gel to look handsome, but not vain.

"Just a bit longer. He's almost done," Anna stated.

"It's all right," Mary replied. "I'm not going anywhere."

 **The One Eighty, 51** **st** **Floor, Manulife Building, Yorkville, Toronto, Canada, September 8, 2018**

"I don't know. Alex seems to think that there are opportunities here for me, but how can there be? Everyone's either drunk, or high, or both," Matthew grumbled, squeezing Mary's hand.

"Well you certainly won't find them if you remain sitting here for the rest of the night," she noted, squeezing his hand in return. "You need to get out and mingle. Everyone here is looking to compliment you on the film, so go and let them."

"It's all for show," he muttered. "I don't even know most of these people."

"But they know you," she replied. "That's your opportunity. You don't need to go around introducing yourself. They already know who you are, just like they know who Rooney is. Yu don't need any excuse or strategy to strike up a conversation. Just seek out the ones you know are investors and their representatives and put a thought or two in their ears, that's all. You've already got their attention, so use it."

He sighed before turning and smiling at her. "And what about you, my darling? Do I have your attention?"

She arched her eyebrow at him playfully. "For now."

He laughed and shook his head at her wryly. "All right. I'll take a turn. Meet back here in half an hour?"

"Take all the time you need," she encouraged him. "I'm going to find Anna and have another drink."

He helped her up from his VIP booth and smiled at her again before he left and weaved into the crowd. She watched him go, a slight frown crossing her face before she glanced around for Anna.

"Lady _Marie_."

She blinked and turned in the direction from where she heard her name. Quickly putting on her smile, she nodded as Xavier appeared before her and kissed her on both cheeks.

"Minister, hello," she replied, lifting her head and kissing him back. "I wasn't aware you were coming to Toronto."

"Just a quick stop," Xavier nodded. "I'm leaving tomorrow. One of the producers that I met with today is here somewhere, but I'm pleasantly surprised to run into you."

"How lucky for both of us," she agreed.

"I understand that your fiancé's film is very good," he continued.

"It is, yes," she confirmed. "It's probably the best work he's done so far. I quite enjoyed it."

"I must be sure to see it when it comes to France. May I buy you a drink, or do you have somewhere that you need to be?" he asked.

She smiled and nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you."

He motioned towards the bar and she went ahead of him. His eyes looked her over quickly, and he smiled to himself before he followed after her.

* * *

"We shot it in just under 30 days here in Toronto. It was a challenge, but a lot of fun, too. Working with Rooney again was great. You saw how we played brother and sister in tonight's movie, but we play sort of star-crossed lovers in this other one, and that different dynamic was fun to explore," Matthew explained, nodding to try and get his point across. He knew he was talking too fast and gesturing too much with his hands, but he wasn't used to talking about himself so much, or trying to explain why exactly anyone should pay millions of dollars to distribute his film.

"And you're looking for worldwide distribution, or just North American?" the man asked, looking at him carefully as his two colleagues waited for Matthew's answer.

"I'll settle for Toronto-wide distribution at this point," Matthew mumbled, blinking when he realized he said that out loud.

The men all laughed, which only made him even more nervous.

He tried to recover quickly. "Yes, well, I'm open to anything really. It's obviously easier to sell the worldwide rights in one shot, but I'm happy to parse it out, if that's what makes more sense. And from the marketing side, I appreciate that I'll need to do more of the legwork since I'm the director and lead. That's fine, too. I would rather do a smaller deal to make sure this is done right, rather than sell it off and wash my hands of it."

The men shared a glance before returning to him.

"Matthew, we're interested. It's a bit of a gamble, since you're a first-time director, but like you said, you and Rooney work well together and that's a big draw. We see it maybe fitting in with Sony Classics better, given the scale and the potential for getting it out internationally. We'll have to look at it more closely, discuss it internally and get back to you with any questions, but you already brought us one Oscar with _Shattered_ and we're pretty sure that _The Disciple_ is going to make money for us. It would be a shame if your first film as a director wasn't released by us as well. We'll be in touch, just promise me you won't go with anyone else without giving us a heads-up and a chance to compete first."

Matthew blinked for a second before nodding and shaking the man's hand. "Right, yes, sure! That's…that's…great! Definitely, yes, you're my top priority."

"Good. Cheers."

Matthew raised his glass and shared a drink with the Sony representatives. When he had first approached them months ago about his film, the response had been indifferent at best. Admittedly, that was before he had Rooney onboard, and before their movie was released. He didn't think those factors should make that much of a difference, but the change in response and tone was markedly improved now. As he sipped his Rye and Coke, he felt relief and excitement flutter in his chest. It was just an initial conversation and there wasn't anything close to a deal yet, but he had interest now, and the prospect that he might actually see his film in a theatre one day became a bit brighter.

* * *

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Mary asked Xavier in French as she sipped her vodka and tonic.

"Yes," he nodded. "I always have to remind myself not to stare whenever I'm at one of these things."

She smiled. "I don't think it's nearly that impressive. The gatherings we've been to in Paris were far more sophisticated."

"Maybe, but that is different. I feel much more comfortable back home. Here, at a place like this, with so many famous actors around, I am very much, how do you say it, starstruck?" he admitted.

"But why? There's nothing particularly special about our lot. We're just good at playing make-believe, is all," she arched her eyebrow in question.

"You don't see it as special, but to us normal people, you're all stars," he smiled sheepishly. "Certainly I know I would never be permitted among this crowd if I wasn't the Minister for Culture. I'm just a politician. I don't belong here."

She smirked in surprise. "I wouldn't say that."

"You wouldn't?" he questioned.

She shook her head. "I think an argument could be made that a Minister has more value than an actor, yes."

He smiled and nodded to her in acknowledgment. "Still, I find your world fascinating. It is so different from other areas of the arts that I am familiar with. The way you can pretend to be someone else, go from being one person to another, with no limits, no consequences. It is impressive, this.

"I suppose it can be rather fun to escape for a few hours every day," she nodded. "However, you never stray too far, really. Everything about a role has some grounding in who you are – whether it be drawing upon some of your own experiences, people you've met, research you've done. I like to think I put some part of myself in every performance."

"I can see that," he agreed. "That is perhaps why I enjoyed _The Muse_. You and Vincent were quite good together – the troubled artist and his enigmatic inspiration."

"Enigmatic? Well, Paul will be pleased to hear that you thought so," she smiled, sipping her drink.

"Would you prefer mysterious? Captivating?" he joked.

She laughed and nodded. "I'll take them all."

He looked away and sipped his drink. Returning to her, he leaned in so she could hear him better above the noise of the party. "You're back to Paris this week, or no?"

She nodded. "There's another week to go on Paul's film."

"And your next movie, _Orlena_ , that is out in November, yes?" he asked.

"Yes, November 1," she confirmed. "Will you be at the premiere with us?"

"I hope so, if Paul will have me," he smiled sheepishly.

"Well, consider yourself invited. You can be my guest," she nodded.

"I am greatly looking forward to it," he smiled, raising his glass to her.

 **Over Easy Restaurant, Hotel Victoria, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 9, 2018**

"Honestly, that was so good," Sybil smiled, nodding to Matthew before feeding Emma another spoonful of oatmeal. "I've never seen you play a role like that before. It was quite surprising."

"Hopefully it wasn't too jarring," he replied, spreading strawberry jam on his toast.

"No, mate, it was good," Tom agreed. "Whoever did your stunts was really good. That zip-lining was incredible to watch."

Matthew gave Mary a wry frown. "That was me," he grumbled.

"Crikey. They must have spent a lot on CGI then," Tom replied.

They all laughed.

"You got a great review in the papers this morning," Sybil noted. "Looks like you could have another hit on your hands."

"We'll see. It's one thing to play well at a festival, and quite another to actually draw numbers," Matthew shrugged. "The studio seems happy so far."

"So happy that they might distribute Matthew's movie," Mary added proudly.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Sybil clapped. Emma squealed and clapped her hands as well.

Matthew laughed at the sight. "It's all just early days, but they've agreed to consider it, which is further than I got with anyone else."

"So when are we going to get to see it, then?" Tom asked. "And don't say we have to wait until it comes out in theatres."

"He's being very secretive about it. I haven't even seen it yet," Mary noted, arching her eyebrow at Matthew.

"It's technically finished, but it could still be changed," Matthew answered. "You'll see it before it hits theatres, I promise."

"All right. That'll do," Sybil smiled.

Mary's phone lit up on the table.

"It's Edith," Mary stated, reaching for her phone. "Get your phone out Sybil, I'll conference you in."

"She probably wants to check on details for next week," Sybil remarked, fishing her phone out of her bag. "I spoke to Rose yesterday. She can't wait for us to get there."

"They might be more excited about the bacherlorette party than they are about the wedding," Tom joked, smiling at Matthew.

"I don't think there's any doubt about it," Matthew replied, smiling at the sight of Mary laughing as she spoke to her sisters.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, September 19, 2018**

"Matthew?" Robert exclaimed, looking up from the dinner table as his future son-in-law came into the room. "I thought you'd be out with your mates by now."

"That's for later," Matthew replied, coming down the table. "I thought you and I would eat together first. Mother mentioned that you were left on your own tonight."

Robert blinked in surprise. "She and Cora went to go watch a musical, one that they did not need my company for, apparently. Well, this is a pleasant surprise. But, I've already given you my blessing for the wedding. You needn't feel obligated to put off your bachelor party just for me."

Matthew chuckled and shook his head. He took a seat and snapped the linen napkin open, placing it on his lap. "I'm not being charitable. We've barely spoken for some time, and I expect that there will be few chances come the weekend when we're back at Downton. Besides, I do owe you my thanks."

Robert smiled and nodded. "You owe me nothing. Go on and help yourself to some roast."

Matthew nodded and went about slicing himself a small portion from the Beef Wellington on the table.

Robert poured a second glass of red wine while Matthew filled his plate from the bowls of corn, broccoli and potatoes. The two men raised their glasses in a toast.

"To Mary," Matthew smiled.

"To Mary," Robert nodded.

"That's very good," Matthew smacked his lips, looking at the wine glass after taking a sip.

"It's the same red for the wedding. I thought I'd ready my palette," Robert smiled.

"Getting back to what I just said – I do owe you," Matthew nodded. "You told me, when I was perhaps at my very lowest, that I should not lose hope. You said that after a while, there might be a chance that Mary and I could start again."

"And you didn't believe me," Robert chuckled, recalling how he had tried to comfort a despondent young man who had first come to his home as a wide-eyed child and had long ago become very much his son.

"No, I didn't," Matthew laughed. "And you said that life is full of surprises, but I would have to say that this – Mary and I getting married – counts as an absolute shock. I still can barely believe it's happening."

"Well, it is, and Cora and I could not be happier for you both," Robert smiled. "I didn't actually know back then that things would work out this way, Matthew. I hoped. Mama hoped. We all hoped. I kept coming back to the fact that you are so very unique, and so I had faith that your quality would win out eventually, and so it has."

"I don't know how unique I am," Matthew shrugged. "I think I may have just worn Mary's resistance down by sheer persistence."

Robert laughed and shook his head. "Believe me. You know her better than anyone else. I never paid any attention to the rumours and gossip about her once she went to Canada. It was all just a bunch of noise to me."

Matthew nodded, putting a piece of beef into his mouth and watching Mary's father carefully.

"There may be more famous men, richer men, perhaps, who fancy her. But they'll never know her the way you do. You were there before all of it, before the fame, before her recent drama that I have sadly foisted upon her. You were there. She never has to question your motives, whether you see in her the actress, or the celebrity. There is a trust between you, one built over most of your lives. That doesn't go away so easily, and it's now brought you back together," Robert said warmly.

Matthew smiled and sipped his wine. "Any last minute advice?"

Robert laughed. "I don't necessarily know if you should be basing your marriage on mine, Matthew. Just keep doing what you're doing. I've never seen Mary happier."

Matthew grinned and continued eating his dinner.

 **Savoy Suite, The Savoy Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, September 20, 2018**

"Babes?" Anna called, taking off her heels and heading down the hallway towards the master bedroom. "Babes? You back?"

She came into the bedroom and smiled at her husband, sitting up in bed, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

"Mmm, what time is it?" he yawned, stretching his arms.

"Just past 3," she replied, coming to bed and sitting on his lap.

"Fuck," he yawned, his hands moving up to take hold of her waist. "Have fun, love?"

"Yeah, it was all right," she smiled, placing her hands on his bare shoulders. "The usual shenanigans, you know. More fun than Edith's night, but nothing too crazy. Mary would never stand for that, no matter how much Sybil and Rose pushed her."

He chuckled and smiled at her. His wife had gone out wearing a blue strapless crop top and matching skirt, just a small hint of her midriff showing. Her blonde hair was straightened and fell tightly down past her shoulders. He was a bit disappointed to see her leave earlier, a bit jealous of the men in the restaurant and nightclub who would get to see her dressed like this, while he went out for beers with Matthew, Tom and Bertie.

"You seem remarkably sober, love," he remarked, his hands moving around to fondle her bottom through the thin skirt.

"I had a glass of wine at dinner and that was it," she smiled. "I wanted to be in full control of my faculties in case the other girls got out of hand."

"That sounds boring," he joked.

She laughed and nodded. "They all enjoyed themselves more, probably, but I was fine. Mary and Sybil were the worst, I'd say, but still not that bad. Anyway, seeing what happened the last time I got really drunk in London without you, well, I had no interest in reliving that."

He blinked in surprise. Drawing her to him, he reached up and framed her face, giving her a warm smile before bringing her down to kiss her lips.

"You don't need to remember any of that, love," he whispered. "It's all in the past."

"I know that," she nodded. "But all the same, it just didn't feel right to throw caution to the wind. Mary understood."

He smiled and kissed her again.

"What about you? How was the stag?" she asked.

"About as exciting as you can imagine," he answered sarcastically. "We just chilled and drank, played cards. That was about it."

"How horrible for you," she teased. "You missed out on a lap dance from some stripper, did you?"

"That's for the groom," he replied, smiling as she grinded her hips against him slowly.

"The best man usually has one as well, doesn't he?" she asked lightly. "You poor thing."

He chuckled and slid his hands up her back. His fingers caught hold of her zipper and slowly undid her top, his lips placing light kisses on her skin as more and more of her cleavage was revealed.

"I should confess – a few blokes at the club did ask me to dance," she whispered, arching her back as his mouth became more and more possessive on her skin.

"Oh yeah?" he mumbled against her skin. He pulled her top off and unsnapped her bra next, throwing both garments on to the floor. He kissed her breasts, drawing a moan from her open mouth.

"Mmm," she nodded, trying to focus enough to form coherent words. "I told them that I was a happily married woman."

"And did that stop them?" he asked, sliding his tongue across her sensitive skin, his hands unzipping her skirt as much as he could and delving past her thong.

"Not all of them," she breathed. "I had to tell a couple just to fuck off."

He laughed smugly. "Nice, love. So did tonight remind you of your bachelorette night?"

"Mmm, only in one respect," she sighed, writhing beneath his touch, his hard arousal obvious beneath her.

"And what was that?" he asked, moving back up to kiss her lips.

"Both back then and tonight, I was absolutely desperate to get back to you," she whispered, kissing him back.

He hummed smugly and slipped his tongue past her lips.

After a few moments, she pushed him on to his back and gave him a sultry smirk. "Now be a good boy and let me have my way."

Sliding down his body, she drew the duvet away before firmly pulling his pyjamas and shorts off.

"Thinking of me, were you?" she asked, reaching down and taking hold of him.

He nodded eagerly.

She laughed wickedly and lowered her head.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, September 20, 2018**

"You've missed your chance, you know," Mary smirked. "Tonight was your last ever opportunity for some wicked fun without repercussions. No more strippers. No more grinding with some stranger in a club. No more groping some slut in a dark corner of a pub."

"I'm quite confident that I'll manage," Matthew replied contentedly, feeling her breasts against his chest as she lay on top of him. He reached up and brushed her hair away from her face, kissing her lightly. "It's not that I'm banned from doing those things. It's that I'm not allowed to do them with anyone else but you."

She laughed and nodded in agreement. "I'll selfishly say that I am glad that all you did tonight was have some pints with your mates. It's nice to know that my husband desires no one else but me."

"And I always will, my darling," he replied, kissing her again. "Did you enjoy yourself tonight? I feel as if you needed a night to let loose a little."

"I did, and yes, you're right, I really needed this," she confirmed. "Ever since we got to London this week, it seems the entire year has caught up with me. I've been going non-stop for so long that I'm only now allowing myself to relax a little. Tonight was fun."

"I'm sure you were a sight," he chuckled. "Surprisingly, I didn't see any photos of you wearing your tiara and sash anywhere on social media."

"We were discrete, to a point," she replied, snuggling against him. "We stayed in the VIP area most of the night, so I wasn't photographed at all, really."

"Good. There will be enough spies around Downton trying to catch a glimpse of the beautiful bride," he smiled.

"More like the paparazzi will be flying helicopters for a shot of the handsome groom," she retorted, kissing his neck. "Oscar-winner Matthew Crawley marries in Yorkshire ceremony."

He laughed and held her close, delighting in the feel of her naked body against his. Predictably, he had returned to their rooms at the Crawleys' London home around 1 a.m. He and Tom had checked in on Emma before he went back downstairs and went to bed. He was roused hours later by his fiancée's mouth and hands all over him.

"Mary? I thought you were staying at the hotel with the others?" he barely got out as she stripped him naked and took him in her mouth.

"I wanted you," she replied simply before resuming her attentions.

The feel of her body and her unbridled enthusiasm shocked him awake in seconds. After several moments of absolute bliss, he pulled her up and helped her get on top of him, the both of them groaning as she took him in and rode him fiercely. Now, in the warm aftermath of their lovemaking, he felt wonderfully sated and content. She had come back just to be with him, couldn't stay away from him for even one night.

"Stop it," she scolded him as he chuckled again. "You're so full of yourself."

"I'm sorry, darling, I just can't help it," he replied, laughing again.

"I suppose I should be flattered that you don't expect these things from me, but I think I'm a bit insulted as well," she mused. "Darling, we're going to be married in a month. Is it so impossible to believe that I love you so much that I want to be with you on my bachelorette night? Do you think me incapable of such feelings?"

"It's not impossible to believe, no," he replied. "And yes, you are capable. It just makes me so happy."

She laughed and raised up, smiling at him, their eyes finding each other in the darkness. "Well, get used to it. I intend to make you very happy during the honeymoon, and for years after."

He grinned and kissed her softly.

"Speaking of which, where are we going for the honeymoon, pray? Surely you can tell me now. Is it truly so important that you wait until after our actual wedding?" she asked.

"I'll tell you what. I'll let you guess. You can ask me five questions," he nodded.

"Five questions. All right, will it be hot there?" she asked.

"Most definitely, both indoors and outdoors," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. "All right. Is it in Europe?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Ah, interesting," she nodded. "Are we staying in the city or is it a beach resort, or something?"

"I think that's two questions, but we're doing both – staying in a city and on a beach – not at the same time," he confirmed.

"Both? Well, that changes things," she remarked, arching her eyebrow. "So I'll need to pack my swimsuit."

"Not necessarily," he teased.

"So predictable," she laughed. "All right, so are we going somewhere with some actual sightseeing, or are you just flying us somewhere and keeping me naked and imprisoned indoors for the entire three weeks?"

"Yes, we're doing plenty of sightseeing, and that's already five questions, however your sixth question does give me some ideas," he replied smoothly.

She laughed. "Hmm. Are we going to the Caribbean? The Mayan Riviera perhaps?"

"The Mayan Riviera isn't in the Caribbean, but no to both places," he replied.

"What other beaches are there outside of Europe that are worth going to in September? Hawaii?" she asked.

"That's a good guess, but no, and you are now up to nine questions," he smiled.

"All right, last one, I promise. Hmm…" she paused, thinking over his answers. "Australia!"

"That is a fantastic guess," he acknowledged. "But no."

She huffed and settled back down on top of him. "All right. I'll try again tomorrow."

"Please do," he smiled, wrapping his arms around her and closing his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Previously:**

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, September 20, 2018**

"Yes, we're doing plenty of sightseeing, and that's already five questions, however your sixth question does give me some ideas," he replied smoothly.

She laughed. "Hmm. Are we going to the Caribbean? The Mayan Riviera perhaps?"

"The Mayan Riviera isn't in the Caribbean, but no to both places," he replied.

"What other beaches are there outside of Europe that are worth going to in September? Hawaii?" she asked.

"That's a good guess, but no, and you are now up to nine questions," he smiled.

"All right, last one, I promise. Hmm…" she paused, thinking over his answers. "Australia!"

"That is a fantastic guess," he acknowledged. "But no."

She huffed and settled back down on top of him. "All right. I'll try again tomorrow."

"Please do," he smiled, wrapping his arms around her and closing his eyes.

 **Chapter 10:**

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, September 21, 2018**

Paul rested his chin on his palm, a frown on his face as the scene played on the large television. He listened as the dialogue played through the speakers with perfect clarity, filling the small editing suite, making it seem as though the conversation was happening right before him.

 _'Black. Well, that is one of my favourite colours.'_

He paused the playback of the scene between Mary and Aline from _Orlena._ Glancing at the smaller monitors on the console before him, he viewed the scene from the different camera angles used during the shoot. He had close-ups of Mary's face, her lips, her eyes, the same shots of Aline from another angle, and a wide shot of the two of them looking into the mirror together. There was a delicate balance between editing the scene enough to make it more powerful, and working it too much so as to lose its impact. He had other takes where Mary had been more demure and nervous, Aline more dominant and forceful. He liked this one better, with Mary the one taking the initiative.

The love scene between Orlena and Ludivine occurred just past the midpoint of the film, but this was one of the last scenes that he needed to finish to complete the movie. He was satisfied with most of the rest, but this scene ruled his thoughts for the past few days. It was so crucial to get it right. Not only was it Mary's first onscreen kiss with another woman, but it was a rather important part of the story, showing how Orlena recovered from her affair with Théo to embrace an entirely different side of herself. The scene already had enough shock and heat that he didn't need to do anything more in either respect. He wanted to focus more on Mary, her actions, her decisions, so that it was apparent to the audience, including her, of how changed the character was for this experience.

A smile spread across his face as he played around with various shots. When Mary saw this in the final cut, she would be surprised by how different it looked than when they filmed it. He had spent so much time and effort during all three film shoots taking her away from her comfort zone, pushing her limits, making her do things she'd never tried before. He had seen her grow into a better actress than when they started working together, but that wasn't overly important to him. What mattered more was that she became used to taking his instructions, trusting in him, becoming more comfortable around him. Once she returned for the press tour at the end of next month, he would continue to reinforce those ideas in her mind. By the time they attended the premiere on November 1, she would be ready for Xavier, as promised.

He watched as onscreen, Mary kissed Aline. In the first draft of the script – the one given to Mary when they were working on _The Muse_ – this scene ended with a simple peck on the lips and the suggestion of something more happening offscreen. Gradually, he had changed the scene, adding more dialogue, more interactions between the two women, until the kiss became far more passionate, and they touched each other with clear intent. At no time did he ever raise the issue of nudity, knowing that Mary was set against it. By preserving her one absolute rule, he was able to push her further in other areas, and the result was a more explicit scene that she believed she actively chose to perform. From a filmmaking perspective, it was a wonderful part of the movie. From the perspective of his private goals and his plans for Mary, it was an absolute triumph.

His fingers moved about the controls, blending different camera shots and smoothing over the cuts so it would appear more seamless. Filming on _Duplicity_ had wrapped days ago, and he was looking forward to going over that footage as well. He sent Mary off to her wedding in England, expecting her back in a month's time. There was something intoxicating about directing another man's wife – both onscreen and offscreen. He did not revel in it the way that some men did – Jean-Paul and Xavier, for example – but he understood the appeal. It was another factor into what made Mary so attractive for the use he had in mind. British, aristocratic, famous, and soon-to-be married. Conquering a woman of such pedigree made many men's blood sing, Xavier in particular.

He rewound the scene back to the beginning and played it again, this time with his fresh edits included. It was easy to imagine the scene leaving a memorable impression on audiences. So long as he got it right, he imagined that it would have a lasting effect on Mary, as well.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, September 21, 2018**

"I'm not saying that I'm surprised at all, but this is ridiculous, you are aware of that? We've been practically living together for over two years now," Matthew whinged.

Mary arched her eyebrow at him, hanging on to his arm as they walked across the lush grass field on one side of the big house.

"Yes, I know, but it's still bad luck to look at me before the wedding, so you shall be sequestered in the Bachelor's Wing from dinner onward," she stated. "It was either that, or Mum would send you to the Grantham Arms, but apparently, with all the renovations going on there, their WiFi is down and the water pressure can be unreliable."

"Sounds horrible," he grumbled.

"Oh, I wasn't concerned about you, but Alex and Tom will be keeping you company for most of the evening, and they might not manage too well without some basic comforts," she smiled.

"Thanks," he muttered sarcastically, frowning at her.

She laughed and sighed happily as the sun beamed down on them.

He brought her hand up to his lips, drawing her attention.

"Can't I convince you to come to my room after midnight? Technically, it won't be the night before the wedding any longer," he teased, quirking his eyebrows at her.

"The tradition is that you're not allowed to see me before the ceremony, which includes the day of the wedding as well, so the answer is still no," she shook her head firmly, bringing their joined hands back down between them. "I don't see why you're so bothered by this. It's literally one night, and I'm duty bound to have sex with you tomorrow night, so what's the problem?"

"Duty bound?" he repeated, annoyed by her choice of words.

"All right, I won't be having sex with you only out of duty, but you understand my point," she rolled her eyes. "I don't think asking you to control yourself for one night is asking too much, particularly when you consider how often you've been getting it this month."

"It is asking too much," he objected. "Telling me that I can't have you only makes me want you even more."

"Exactly. That's why you can't have me," she retorted. "Tomorrow night, you're supposed to be ravenous and insatiable for waiting."

"I assure you, darling, I'll already be in a right state tomorrow without having to take tonight off," he noted.

"Yes, I am well aware. Look, it's simply the way it's going to be, so there's no point arguing about it any longer," she shrugged.

"Sybil didn't make Tom stay away the night before their wedding," he muttered.

"Sybil and Tom are Sybil and Tom, and how did you even know that? God, Tom really speaks out of turn, sometimes," she frowned.

"Sybil is the one who told me, actually," he corrected her.

"Of course, she did," she rolled her eyes. "The two of you together are incorrigible."

"Anna also didn't make Alex…" he added.

"Stop it! You could tell me that Will and Kate didn't abstain the night before their wedding and it wouldn't change a thing," she declared.

He frowned and shook his head resignedly.

They reached their bench under the massive oak tree and sat down, she with her usual perfect posture, her hands folded on her lap, he slumped over with a petulant frown on his face.

"Matthew, get over it," she ordered.

"But I…" he whinged, raising his hands.

"Get over it," she arched her eyebrow at him.

"Fine," he sighed.

She frowned wryly at his petulance. "Darling we have an hour left together. If you want to spend it moping, go right ahead, but I should think you would value the moment more than that."

He took a deep breath before sitting up straight. Turning towards her, he reached over and took her hands in his. Rubbing his thumb across her knuckles, he stared at their joined hands for a moment before raising his head and finding her eyes. A slow smile spread across his face before he spoke softly to her.

"There is something that I wanted to tell you," he nodded. "Something very important, and very private."

"I'm all ears," she replied, arching her eyebrow at him.

"Well, another old wedding tradition is that the bride and groom give each other presents ahead of the ceremony," he noted.

She smiled and nodded. "That they do."

"And you'll receive yours at the appropriate time," he confirmed. "However, right now, I want to say a few words."

"Go on," she prompted him, her eyes bright.

"Burke's Peerage calls you a Lady, for that is your title, by birth and by blood, but I do not call you that. I do not think of you that way," he began.

She blinked, smirking at him curiously.

"The Screen Actors Guild calls you an actress, and you're a brilliant one. It is one of the few professions challenging enough to match your ambition, but when anyone asks me who you are, I do not say you are an actress," he continued, shaking his head and holding her gaze. "That seems too small a description for you."

She frowned for a moment, but remained silent.

"We've known each other since we were children. In my life, you've been my tormentor, my adversary, my friend, my partner, my co-star, and my fiancée," he smiled.

She grinned and looked down for a moment, nodding in agreement.

"Tomorrow, before God, you'll be my wife, and I can't wait for that moment. But most of all, beyond any of those other titles or labels, you are my love, Mary. You always have been. That's why I believe in you, why I have faith in you, why I don't ever, ever doubt that your life will be all you want it to be, ultimately," he nodded, his blue eyes bright and earnest, captivating her completely.

She pursed her lips, a flutter in her chest at seeing his adoration for her.

"To me, you're everything, because you're mine. I don't say that to mean you are my property, or even my woman, or to suggest that you owe me anything at all that you wish not to give. I say you're mine because, well, there's no one else in the world for me but you, and there never will be, my love."

He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them tenderly.

She leaned forward and closed her eyes. Their foreheads touched, the slight breeze rustling the branches above them. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft like a warm caress.

"I love you, and that was very sweet, but you're still not getting any sex tonight," she declared, opening her eyes and looking at him pointedly.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, scowling and looking away.

She laughed and he joined her, smiling as he sat back and put his arm around her shoulders. She kissed him lightly and snuggled against him. They both looked out across the lush fields to where the vast lands met the blue sky on the horizon.

"Isn't it funny how life unfolds?" she asked. "When we were children, I never imagined leaving this place. I thought my future was to grow old here. Now, I barely even think of it as home. If anyone asks, I always just say my base is in London."

He nodded. "I think you were always meant to leave and live your life elsewhere, actually. However, to be honest, I'm glad the house and grounds still belong to your family. We have so many memories here, and even though you and your sisters have moved on, it's nice to come back when we can. It would feel strange if some other family lived here, or if it was just made into a tourist attraction by the National Trust, or something."

"Mmm. Who knows? This could all be ours someday," she mused.

"Us? Lord and Lady of the manor? I can't imagine giving orders to Carson," he stated.

She laughed and nodded. "I don't think you would be the one giving the orders, darling."

He scoffed. "Technically, it would be my house, if we are to adhere to proper conventions."

"And I would be running your house, as your wife and the daughter of the last Earl," she countered. "Carson would answer to me, regardless."

"Probably better that we don't live here, then. More rivals, I do not need," he stated.

She rolled her eyes. "You're imagining things. No one else wants me. My star has fallen."

"Right," he replied sarcastically. "Ask Henry, Tony, and even that boy who played your lover in _Orlena_ – Jimmy, was it? Ask them if they don't want you anymore."

"Fine. No one else of any value wants me anymore," she frowned. "That's being rather unkind to Jimmy. In any event, you have no rivals, darling, least of all Carson. He's probably one of your biggest supporters, since you've taken on the dreadful task of marrying me."

"Most dreadful, indeed. And I shall require frequent incentive to continue my toil," he joked, kissing her again.

"You're not funny," she smiled against his lips, kissing him back.

* * *

"And then he asked me 'do you think Mary's kissed him yet?' Can you believe it?" Sybil squealed, clapping her hands and almost crying from laughter.

Mary rolled her eyes and shared a knowing smile with Edith. Anna and Rose just laughed along with Sybil.

"So I said 'why wouldn't she have?' and the look on his face! Shit, you've never seen a sadder 14 year-old in your life!" Sybil continued, shaking her head while still laughing.

"I don't know what's more ridiculous – that Matthew asked an 8 year-old for gossip on your love life, or that he was so affected by her answer," Edith smiled.

"Or that he even believed her to begin with," Mary replied. "I never kissed Philip. He was the one who told everyone I was his girlfriend. I didn't say anything of the sort."

"So we've established that the first time you broke Matthew's heart was when you were 12 years old," Rose joked. "Sounds about right."

"It was probably earlier than that," Sybil noted, trying to calm herself. "I'd guess it was when you shoved him into the pond when you were nine."

Mary scoffed.

"No, no, it was even earlier than that," Edith waved her finger. "It was for sure the skating party."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Oh, for God's sake, not this again."

"What skating party?" Rose asked innocently.

"You were only three at the time so you wouldn't remember it," Mary informed her cousin.

"We had a skating party for Mary's sixth birthday," Edith recounted. "It was mainly school friends who came, but Mum invited Isobel and Dr. Crawley and Matthew, since it was a Saturday afternoon and they would often come down on the Friday and stay until Sunday. So, of course, they accepted."

"We didn't learn this until years later, but when Matthew saw the invitation, he danced a jig, he was so happy," Sybil nodded.

"According to Isobel. It hasn't been corroborated, ever," Mary pointed out defensively.

"Matthew says the story's true," Sybil remarked.

"Only because he gets all the sympathy that way," Mary grumbled.

"Anyway, he saw it was an invitation to Mary's birthday party and he was elated, but when he read further, he noticed it was a skating party," Edith continued.

"Matthew didn't know how to skate back then, so the story goes that he burst into tears, went running to Isobel and asked her 'Mother, why would Mary invite me to a skating party for her birthday if she knows that I can't skate?'" Sybil cackled.

Rose and Anna laughed anew.

"I didn't even know he was invited!" Mary whinged. "Besides, he did well enough."

"He spent the entire time trying to remain upright. I think Mary said two words to him all afternoon," Edith explained.

"Yes, yes, fine, I was a total bitch to him dating back to when I was six. Can we please get over it? The number of happy memories we have dwarfs the sad ones by a considerable margin," Mary complained.

"Yes, but most of them aren't appropriate to talk about," Sybil teased. "You wouldn't want to shock all of us before the wedding, would you, darling?"

"You're all married!" Mary protested, smirking and laughing along with them.

Rose went to the bar and brought back fresh drinks for everyone. They were each curled up on a sofa or chair, gathered around the large coffee table beneath the gleaming chandelier, enjoying a few last moments before it would be time for bed.

"Are you looking forward to the honeymoon?" Rose asked.

"What do you think?" Edith exclaimed. "She's looking forward to all sorts of things."

"Shut up," Mary scolded her sister. "None of that."

"Well do you at least know where you're going now?" Rose asked.

"I do. We're flying to Japan first and spending two weeks there – Tokyo, Kyoto and Osaka," Mary advised.

"Wow, Japan? I can't picture you there," Rose blurted out.

"I've always wanted to go, but never had the chance," Mary smiled. "I think it's going to be amazing, just completely different from anywhere else we've ever been."

"And after that?" Edith asked.

Mary grinned. "Bora Bora for a week."

"Fuck, that's incredible," Sybil shook her head.

Mary nodded. "We have our own place over the water. It's going to be absolutely glorious, exactly what I need – days of sun and lying about doing nothing."

"Nothing except your husband," Edith added.

Mary rolled her eyes while the others laughed knowingly.

* * *

"That's a goal! Woo!" Alex celebrated, punching his fist in the air. "Real Madrid 3, United 1. That's 4 games to 1 for me now. Sure you don't want to change the difficulty level? It might help if you use AI assistance, or something."

"And here I thought you might actually let me win tonight for once," Matthew smirked, putting his controller down and taking a drink of beer.

"Why would I do that? Because you're getting married tomorrow? Come on," Alex huffed.

Tom laughed from his seat on the couch and took a drink of his beer. "The two of you are really into these video games, yeah?"

"It keeps us young, or some of us, anyway," Alex joked, reaching for the bowl of chips. "It's a nice distraction while we're locked up here in detention with this one."

"Want to play cards, Tom? You're just sitting there all left out," Matthew asked.

"No, it's fine. I'm just about done," Tom replied.

"Just about done? It's not even eleven, though," Matthew frowned.

They all looked up at the sudden knock on his bedroom door.

"Told you. I'm just about done," Tom joked, getting up and going over to open the door.

Matthew and Alex stood up when Sybil and Anna came into the room.

"Hi," Matthew greeted them in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Come to see you before your big day, of course," Sybil smiled, hugging and kissing him. "And we're collecting our husbands before they get into too much trouble."

"Hey," Alex protested, holding Anna in his arms. "I think we all know who got into more trouble on the bachelorette night."

"Anna! That was all supposed to remain a secret!" Sybil warned her.

"It still is. I only told him the cover story," Anna smirked.

Alex frowned at her warily.

Anna laughed and kissed him quickly.

"Anyway, there is an actual purpose to our visit. Here," Sybil stated, handing Matthew a small gift bag. "From Mary."

Matthew took it from her and blinked in surprise. He went and sat down on the sofa and opened the bag as everyone else looked on.

After removing the tissue paper, he reached in and pulled out a small grey box. Looking at it curiously, he opened it and his mouth gaped.

"What?" he struggled, swallowing before taking out a pair of gold cufflinks and a matching tie-pin. The items all had an identical symbol pressed in gold – a flying bee.

He blinked in shock before looking up at Sybil's smiling face. "How? How did she get these?"

Tom looked curiously at his wife.

"They're the same set worn by Matthew's father when he and Isobel were married," Sybil explained. "The worker bee was adopted as the symbol of Manchester during the Industrial Revolution."

"Father was buried wearing these," Matthew said softly, looking at the gleaming jewellery once more. "She tracked these down? Surely they aren't made anymore? My grandmother gave him these back in the 1970s."

"They aren't made anymore, as far as we know," Anna confirmed. "She had them custom-made for you, using old photographs from one of your parents' wedding album."

"I don't know what to say," he shook his head.

"Whatever it is, you can tell her tomorrow. Let's let the young man get some sleep," Alex smiled.

Matthew got up and said goodnight to everyone. He hugged and kissed Sybil and did his usual handshake with Alex. After hugging Tom and Anna, he saw them to the door and told them he would see them in the morning. Once they had all left, he went back over to the coffee table and picked up Mary's wedding gift. He stared at it for ages, a smile filling his face. Eventually, he closed the box and held it in his hand as he went over to the window and looked out on the moonlit grounds.

"I got myself a good one, Dad," he whispered, smiling as he looked up at the stars.

* * *

"Mary?"

Mary blinked and looked at her bedroom door in alarm. "Just a moment!"

She grabbed her tissues from the vanity and wiped her eyes, checking her reflection in the mirror to make sure her face wasn't too puffy from crying. When she looked as composed as she was going to get, she called out from her chair. "Come in, Mum!"

Cora opened the door and came into her room, a happy smile on her face. "Oh, my darling, I am so very happy for you."

Mary smiled kindly and nodded. "Thank you."

Cora approached her and Mary noticed she was carrying a rectangular velvet box. "From Matthew," Cora nodded.

"Well, it's about time. I was just about to go to sleep," Mary replied, smiling as she took the box from her mother and set it on the vanity. Opening it carefully, she gasped when she saw the magnificent diamond necklace contained within. It was simply spectacular – a circle of brilliant diamonds set at varying angles – so many that it appeared as though the necklace was made from gems alone.

"Harry Winston," Mary whispered, nodding her head in wonder. "Oh, it's gorgeous."

"A timeless piece," Cora agreed. "Matthew chose well."

"He did," Mary sniffled and cringed as fresh tears fell down her cheeks. She covered her mouth but could not stop her sobs.

"There, there, it's all right, darling," Cora said, rubbing her daughter's back and trying to soothe her.

"Oh, Mum!" Mary shook her head and dropped her hands to her lap. "I'm making a huge mistake!"

"What are you talking about?" Cora frowned. When Mary continued to shake, she came around and sat down on the bed and had Mary turn to face her.

"I love Matthew," Mary whimpered. "I love him so very much, but I'm no good for him! He should be marrying anyone but me, really!"

"How can you say that? Matthew worships you. You're going to make him so very happy," Cora assured her.

"Not as happy as he could be," Mary scoffed. "A few days ago, he showed me his movie – the one that he wrote, and directed, and starred in."

"The one that you didn't want to be in," Cora stated.

Mary sighed despondently and nodded.

"And?" Cora prompted her.

"And it's brilliant!" Mary declared. "He's so good in it, and Rooney Mara is wonderful as the female lead, and it's a fantastic movie. I loved it."

"That's wonderful," Cora said cautiously.

"But Mum, don't you see? He wanted me to be a part of that and I turned him down! He wrote that film for us. He never wanted anyone else to be in it, and I went and ruined his dreams, all because I was too stupid to give him a chance."

"Mary, you had your reasons, and he accepted them," Cora reminded her.

"Of course, he did!" Mary waved her hand. "That's who he is! I broke his heart all those years ago when I rejected him and he stayed faithful to me anyway. I took him back on the condition that I wasn't ready for marriage yet and he was fine with it. All I ever do is throw obstacles in his way and he just fights through them."

"He's a very good man, yes," Cora nodded, perplexed as to her daughter's distress.

"I'm not like that, Mum!" Mary cried. "I love him, and I want to be with him for the rest of my life, but I don't do nearly as much to support him as I should. What's wrong with me? Why can't I just be more like him?"

Cora smiled. "I don't think many people are like Matthew, my dear."

"Exactly!" Mary stated. "He'd be so much better off with someone like Rooney, or Lavinia, or even Sybil, someone who truly appreciates him and doesn't make him compete for her time."

Cora laughed. "I think all of those women are taken, Mary, and if you cast him off to your sister, that could be rather awkward for the rest of us."

"I said someone like Sybil, Mum, not Sybil herself," Mary muttered, frowning at her before she reached for more tissues. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Mary," Cora said patiently, taking her daughter's hands. "It's natural to feel nerves the night before your wedding. You've been so used to living your life in blocks of a few months at a time – however long it takes to complete your next project was all you were concerned about."

Mary sniffled and nodded in understanding.

"Of course, when faced with years, decades as Matthew's wife, the scope of such a commitment appears daunting. But know this – there is a life for you that begins tomorrow. It is a wonderful life, filled with adventure, and discovery, and love. That is not to say that you have no life without him, or that your life is defined by him, but you see, my darling daughter, you needn't worry about whether you are good enough for him. When two people love each other, you understand, everything is the most terrific fun," Cora smiled, and Mary could have sworn she saw her mother blush.

"You're such an American," Mary laughed, hugging her mother tightly. "Thank you so much."

"My work is almost done. You and your sisters have all found strong, brave men to spend your lives with. I am so proud of you, Mary, and I know that your Granny would be, also," Cora whispered.

Mary drew back and wiped her eyes once more, nodding at her mother's words. "I don't know if your work is even close to done. Sybil and Edith will be hitting you up for babysitting soon enough."

"I don't consider that a chore," Cora smiled, rising from the bed and squeezing Mary's hands again. "After all, I get to hand the babies back to their mothers once the day is done."

Mary laughed as her mother turned for the door.

"Try and get some sleep. You don't want to look tired tomorrow," Cora advised.

"Don't worry. Matthew isn't pleased that he's been banished for the night, but he understands," Mary smiled.

"Your father is more concerned about that than I am," Cora shrugged, smirking at Mary mysteriously. "Thankfully, he's a very sound sleeper."

Mary blinked in confusion at her mother's words. Shaking her head as Cora left the bedroom, she went back to the vanity and smiled at the gorgeous diamond necklace once again. As she ran her hands along the sparkling stones, she blinked in surprise. Placed on her vanity next to the velvet box was a folded piece of what appeared to be ribbon. Reaching for it, she lifted it up and unfolded a long length of black silk.

"What's this?" she frowned, looking at it curiously.

* * *

"I worry about you. With all of the Crawley sisters married, when's the next lavish wedding you'll get to attend?" Alex joked, running his fingers up and down his wife's bare arm.

Anna laughed and wriggled against him as his touch tickled her skin. "I don't know. One of your colleagues or clients, perhaps?"

"They're all old, or on their second or third marriages, or both," he replied. "Tomorrow may be your last turn as a matron-of-honour, however."

"Thank God," she sighed. "Being paired with the best man is absolute hell."

She laughed as he spooned behind her and tickled her sides. "Alex! Stop! Stop!"

She turned her head and kissed him in truce, before settling back against him, their bed warm and soft. Alex was right. This would likely be one of the last times she visited Downton Abbey. Who knew where Mary's future would take them, but it would likely be in London, Paris, or back to North America. Mary and Matthew would return here for holidays and vacations, but she and Alex had no real reason to accompany them. It was an end of an era, in a way. Even though it had been years since Mary lived here, the place was still her home. It was fitting that she wanted to get married here before moving on to her life with Matthew.

"You know when you and Sybil were talking about what really happened on Mary's bachelorette night? That was just a joke, right?" he asked.

She laughed. "Your mind must be conjuring all manner of salacious scenarios."

"No. I trust you. I was just curious," he mumbled.

She kissed him again and smiled at him over her shoulder. "We went to a strip club after the nightclub, that's all. Nothing happened. Rose and Sybil paid for Mary to get a lap dance. Edith and I stayed off to the side counting the minutes until we could leave."

"Ah, I see," he replied.

She laughed. "No, I did not get a lap dance of my own. There were a few fit men among the dancers, but the women in the audience were just shameless."

"Is that why you were in such a playful mood when you got back to the hotel? Seeing all those naked men got you going?" he joked.

"I got in the mood thinking about you on the way back to the hotel," she smirked. "You always put me in the mood, babes."

She worked her hips and rubbed her bottom against him playfully.

"Love, I want you," he whispered, kissing her shoulder and pushing his hips against her ass.

She laughed sultrily. "Wanting some action while we're guests at Downton, babes? Really?"

"Yeah, really," he stated, his voice smooth and confident. "Please? Or do you not want to?"

"I never said that," she smirked, turning over to face him and running her hands over his chest. "We have to be quiet, though."

"It's an old house with thick walls," he smiled. "I can be quiet. Can you?"

"You don't want me to be," she smiled, pushing him on to his back and straddling him.

* * *

Matthew grunted as he held his body in the plank position. His silent count was approaching two minutes, and his legs were shaking slightly from the effort. He counted another ten seconds past 120 to be sure and groaned as he collapsed to the floor, his heartbeat pounding. Rolling over on to his back, he stared up at the ceiling and took deep breaths to try and calm himself.

Sleep was determined to avoid him tonight. After Sybil and the others left, he took a bath and went to bed. Now just past midnight, he was still wide awake. He tried some push-ups and sit-ups to tire himself out, which led him to doing some planks. His mistake was that his blood was now pumping merrily, and he felt even more energetic than before he started.

He blinked when he saw his phone flash on the nightstand. Picking himself up off the floor, he went over and picked it up.

 _'Face the window and close your eyes.'_

His frowned at Mary's text in confusion. Face the window and close his eyes? Before he could move to reply, a second text came through.

 _'Do it.'_

He rolled his eyes and sent a reply before putting his phone down.

 _'All right.'_

He walked around the bed and went over to the window. Feeling ridiculous, he closed his eyes.

The door whispered open a moment later, closing just as quickly. He caught the scent of her Chanel night cream and smiled, keeping his eyes closed.

"It's bad luck to look at me," she whispered, coming up behind him.

"So I've been told," he replied, still facing the windows.

"That is, if we were getting married," she continued.

"Which we are," he answered slowly, perplexed by her comment.

"If you wish to jilt me, now would be the time to run," she stated, kissing his bare back. "Tom and Alex are under strict orders to see you to the Church tomorrow. I won't be left at the altar."

"You shall not be, so long as there is breath left in my body," he replied, his voice a low growl from her touch.

She smiled against his skin and ran her hands up and down his sides. "Back to the subject of bad luck, then. We might be cursed, you and I, if we were to get our marriage off to such an inauspicious beginning, and considering how much we had to endure to reach this point, I would not tempt fate and risk our happiness together, my darling."

"Fair enough," he replied tightly. "Good night, then, and my memories of this visit will see me through to the morning."

"I thought about it some more, though, and it seems to me that the tradition forbids the groom from seeing the bride's face or her wedding dress before the wedding," she noted.

"Right," he said slowly, frowning at her playful tone.

"Based on that, there's nothing stopping you from speaking to me before the wedding, for example," she smirked.

He quirked his eyebrows in surprise.

"There's nothing stopping you from touching me," she continued, kissing his shoulder. "Or being touched in return, so long as you don't see me when it happens."

He swallowed. "I agree."

"There's nothing stopping you from tasting me," she laughed sultrily, her hands moving around and sliding across his waist. "Or from being tasted, so long as you keep your eyes closed."

"Mary," he sighed.

"Eyes still closed?" she asked lightly.

"Yes," he nodded.

"Good," she smiled. Taking out the length of black silk, she reached up and tied it around his head and across his eyes. "And now?"

"I can't see a thing," he replied.

"Excellent," she nodded.

He took a deep breath when she took his hand and led him to bed. She laughed as she clumsily turned him around to face her, his back to the bed. With a firm push, she put him on his back, the blindfold remaining in place.

"Now, I have something very important, and very private, to tell you, Matthew," she purred, pulling his pyjamas and shorts down his legs.

He breathed harshly as he felt the air of the room on his naked body.

She smiled down at him as she removed her robe and cast it aside, her camisole and boy shorts following soon after. Crawling over him, she leaned down, kissing her way from his neck up to his ear. His hands reached down and fondled her ass, a groan spilling from his lips when he confirmed she was naked.

"I know this seems rather convenient, and even easy for me to say, but the reason I came to you tonight was to show you that nothing, absolutely nothing, is more important to me than you. You've been so supportive of me, and I wish there was something I could do to support you in return, but honestly, darling, you hardly need it. You've been going from strength to strength for over a year now," she said, licking his earlobe.

"Mary," he breathed. "You do support me. You support me every day. I wouldn't have achieved nearly as much as I have without you."

"That's very sweet of you to say," she nodded.

"Because it's true," he replied. "I know you, Mary. You're not one for gestures, and I understand that. I also know what it's like to be without you, and this, what we have now, is far, far better. You don't need to worry about measuring up to some imaginary standard. Just be you. Be the woman I love, for that is who you are."

She grinned and moved to his lips, kissing him firmly.

"I cannot stay for much longer," she whispered between kisses. "I need sufficient rest, otherwise there will be gossip that I spent the night before my wedding getting up to no good."

"As much as it pains me, I will release you whenever you see fit," he replied.

"I think I may have just enough time to leave you with something to tide you over until the wedding. Shall I tell you about my plan?" she smirked.

He nodded eagerly.

"Well, you see, first I'm going to…" she began, whispering in his ear.

He groaned at every sordid detail poured from her lips, flowing to his brain and taking root.

"Will that do, husband?" she asked.

"Very much so, wife," he nodded, gasping in reply.

"Good answer," she laughed wickedly.

She shifted to his side, her hand moving down his front, tickling his chest playfully before smoothing over his firm abs and down to his thigh.

"You're so big," she whispered, taking hold of him.

"Oh, Mary," he sighed. "Please, please."

She smiled and kissed him warmly, sliding her tongue against his as she kept stroking him with her hand.

He reached up and fondled her breast, reaching for any part of her he could touch, trying to give her even a fraction of the pleasure she was giving him.

She shifted and kneeled at his side, resting her head on his chest and watching him swell in her hand. The blood sprinted through her veins, her arousal soaring higher. Being with Matthew was always exciting, but there was something more, something daring about being with him the night before their wedding, when they were supposedly not allowed to be together. Doing something wrong, breaking the rules, even if they were rather archaic and not particularly important, thrilled her.

His hand slid down her back and over her arse, her new position giving him full access to her. He caressed her soft skin before spanking her lightly.

"You love spanking me, don't you?" she laughed, kissing his chest.

"I love this more," he snarled, reaching over and sliding his finger inside of her.

"Matthew," she rasped, closing her eyes and arching her back at the intimate contact. "So good."

She stroked him faster. He added a second finger. They moved against each other, each of them focused on sending the other over first.

Without his vision, everything became more intense. The feel of her squeezing around his fingers. The sound of her harsh cries as he brought her closer to the edge. She pushed back against him. His hips thrust against her hand. He saw her so clearly in his mind, her naked body bent over him, her beautiful face, eyes shut in rapture. He grunted as his legs began to shake.

"Matthew! Yes!" she moaned, seizing up as his fingers sent her flying.

He called out and released, her hand driving him to bliss.

They remained that way, breathing heavily, heartbeats racing, clinging to each other until they found the words to speak.

"Mmm," she sighed tiredly, licking her fingers before she kissed her way up to his face. "Sweet dreams, darling."

He chuckled thickly. "You've made rather a mess of me. Quite appropriate, really."

She kissed him playfully. "Well, darling, if only you could see. I assure you that I didn't emerge unscathed just now."

"Oh, Mary," he groaned, the lurid image immediately coming to mind.

She laughed and kissed him quickly. "I must go. You can remove the blindfold after I'm safely away."

"All right," he smiled, turning his head and searching for her lips. She smiled and kissed him again. "I love you, my darling. I can't wait for the wedding."

"Neither can I," she nodded. "I love you, too."

She slipped off the bed and grabbed her robe and shorts. Picking up her camisole, she smirked wickedly before tossing it at Matthew's prone form.

"Here. You can use this," she teased before turning and heading for the door.

He felt the delicate silk and lace in his hands and grinned, looking to the door from behind his blindfold. When he heard the door close behind her, he sat up and removed his blindfold. Blinking to adjust to the darkness of the room, he looked down at her camisole.

"Minx," he shook his head, setting it aside gently before he got up and headed for the bathroom.

 **Downton Village Church, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, September 22, 2018**

The gathered crowd cheered and applauded as Mary and Matthew came outside. The happy couple waved and laughed as confetti fell all around them, the sun bathing the church steps in light.

"Come on, Matthew! Give her a kiss!"

"Mary!"

"Matthew!"

Grinning at the calls from the villagers, Matthew turned to his new bride. Seeing the mischief in her bright eyes, he leaned in and kissed her softly, the crowd booming in appreciation as cameras clicked away. The paparazzi had been confined to an area across the village square, but their telephoto lenses had no trouble capturing the first images of the married couple. As with many celebrity weddings, Mary and Matthew had received numerous offers for their exclusive wedding photos, but declined them all. Their privacy was more important than the exorbitant sums put forward. Security was tightened back at Downton Abbey, and they hoped that they would enjoy a reception free of helicopters and trespassers.

"Want to give them something to really talk about?" he asked, smirking at her playfully.

"Why not?" she countered.

"Just hold on to me," he nodded.

She arched her eyebrow in question before he raised his leg and leaned backwards.

"Matthew!" she exclaimed, grabbing on to him.

"Lovely dip, darling," he joked. "Now give us a kiss."

She blinked in surprise, realizing that unlike a traditional wedding photo, it now appeared as if she was dipping him. She laughed and kissed him, giving the photographers a unique shot that she had never seen from any other celebrity wedding before.

They both straightened up and resumed their proper demeanour. Mary raised her bouquet and waved it in the air as Matthew guided her down the steps, past the throngs of well-wishers and over to the waiting Mercedes convertible. Helping his wife into the backseat, Matthew went around and got in next to her.

"Ready to go, Mr. Crawley? Lady Mary?" the driver asked, smiling back at them.

Matthew took Mary's hand in his and kissed it.

"Ready," Mary confirmed, smiling at her husband.

The car pulled away from the kerb and headed slowly out of the village and towards the country road leading to Downton. Cheering fans lined the street to get a glimpse of them, and Mary waved dutifully, smiling all the while.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, September 23, 2018**

"Didn't you say that everyone is expecting us for brunch this morning?" Matthew asked, smiling as his wife kissed a trail from his chest up to his mouth.

"Honestly, darling, everyone in the entire house is well aware of what we've been up to since last night. They won't expect us to be on time," she teased, kissing him playfully.

He laughed, running his hands up and down her bare back. After the wedding ceremony, they returned to Downton for photos on the grounds. Roaming about with Sybil, Edith, Anna and their husbands, as well as the photographers and videographers in tow, they took advantage of the backdrop of a brilliant blue sky. They posed at the Temple of Diana, their old bench under the oak tree, and numerous other picturesque spots with the big house standing tall and proud behind them. They even stopped by places they use to visit in their youth – the stables, the old hunting lodge, the cricket pitch and the pond. A few tourists gawked in surprise when the bridal party came through the public flower gardens, never expecting to see the two famous actors in person.

The reception ran from 5 p.m. to well into the evening. Mary couldn't remember having danced so much in one night, even at her Society parties in London. The speeches were kept to a minimum, Anna and Alex doing a joint one and Sybil and Edith another, though no one could stop Robert from taking the microphone and monopolizing everyone's time. Thankfully, the open bar stayed busy and the food was delicious, and with the invited guests being more family and friends than industry types, the night moved along briskly.

Mary cried when she danced with Carson. Matthew cried when he danced with Isobel. The night ended with the bridal party sitting around one of the guest tables devouring the leftover fruit from the chocolate fountain and waffle station.

They all went up around midnight. Matthew scooped Mary off the floor and carried her down the hall to her bedroom, much to the laughter and groans of the others. The day caught up with them when they were across the threshold and finally alone, but exhaustion only meant they made love the moment he got her out of her wedding dress, rather than waiting for her to change into her special lingerie first.

"Do you feel any different, this morning, Mrs. Crawley?" he asked, kissing her forehead.

"I feel delightfully sore, not an uncommon occurrence after a night with you," she teased. "Other than that, no, not particularly. I suppose I've considered myself yours for much longer than I knew. Now that it's official, I feel no different."

He laughed.

"What about you? Has it sunk in yet that you've pledged yourself to me for all eternity?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.

"I don't know if I will ever," he began, kissing her softly. "Ever," he continued, kissing her neck. "Ever get used to the idea that the Lady Mary Crawley is truly mine." He eased her on to her back and moved on top of her. "But if this is all some delusion, I shall enjoy every second of my madness."

"Matthew," she breathed, closing her eyes as he kissed his way down her body, his lips and tongue teasing her breast while his hands spread her legs apart. "Oh God, again?"

"Say the word and I'll stop, my darling," he smiled, kissing her stomach and moving lower.

"Don't you dare stop! Oh fuck!" she cried, grabbing at the bedsheets as his mouth took hold of her once more.

* * *

"I know it may be considered bad form to give money as a wedding present, but I'm a quarter-Chinese, and we always give money on joyous occasions, so here you go," Alex smiled, handing a red envelope to Matthew.

Anna smiled as she watched Mary and Matthew blink in surprise. They were gathered in the sitting room for tea, Mary and Matthew on the sofa, and she and Alex on the settee opposite. Most of the family had gone out for the afternoon, either to take Emma into the village, or enjoy the warm weather. Mary and Matthew were due to fly out before dinner.

"You already gave us something, though," Matthew muttered, accepting his friend's gift.

"And now we're giving you something more. Open it," Anna nodded.

"You really didn't need to," Mary shook her head and set her tea cup down. "The both of you have been so great. The day wouldn't have ran nearly as smoothly without you."

"Thank you. Now open your present," Alex smiled.

Matthew frowned at his best man before opening the envelope and pulling out a folded cheque. He unfolded it and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"Oh my God," Mary exclaimed, staring at the amount of the cheque.

"Call it a wedding present from Sony," Alex stated, smiling at the couple's befuddled reaction. "Congratulations. _10 Days_ has worldwide distribution."

Matthew stared at Alex in shock. He slowly turned to Mary, still overwhelmed at the cheque he was holding in his hands.

"This is incredible," he mumbled. "$2.5 million? That's a quarter of my budget made back already."

Mary smiled and kissed Matthew in celebration. "So very well done, darling."

Anna smirked at her husband. "Go on and tell him, babes."

"Tell me what?" Matthew asked, looking across at Alex.

Alex smiled at Anna before turning back to his best friend. "That's your cut from the net proceeds. Your production budget has already been covered, your financiers have been paid out. Sony Classics has priority up to the amount of their investment, with a small bit of interest."

Mary's mouth fell open.

"This is my cut of the net?" Matthew repeated, staring at the cheque again.

"That's right," Alex nodded. "Sony gets their investment back from whatever box office you pull in, and the rest after that is yours, less this payment."

"My God," Matthew whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "$12.5 million? I can't even imagine it."

"It must have been all because of Rooney, because it for sure couldn't be because of you," Alex joked.

Matthew just kept shaking his head.

"The studio loved it," Alex continued. "They think it might be too late to get it polished in time for Sundance in January. South by Southwest in March might be a better option, and they're also considering pushing it to next September and debuting you at Toronto again. No matter what, they're fully behind it, so you've got a great shot at making a lot of money."

Matthew laughed and pulled Mary into a hug. She laughed along with him, stunned by his good fortune.

Alex put his arm around Anna's shoulders and smiled. "We may have the next Iñárritu in our midst, love."

"Stop it," Matthew huffed, unable to stop smiling. "If the film ends up breaking even, I'll be grateful."

"Then prepare to be very, very grateful," Alex nodded.

* * *

"Are you sure we're allowed?" Sybil asked, frowning at Mary.

"What are you talking about?" Mary asked, looking up at her in confusion.

"The bench – it's yours and Matthew's," Sybil noted, pointing at the old wooden seat.

Mary rolled her eyes. "I hardly think he has any ownership claim to it considering that he doesn't even live here and never ha. Now sit!"

Sybil and Edith shrugged to each other and went and promptly sat down on either side of Mary.

Mary smiled and closed her eyes, breathing in the late afternoon air. "God, I don't know if I've ever spent a better few days here."

"Your nights haven't been so bad, either," Edith smiled knowingly.

Mary opened her eyes and glared at her sister. "Shut up. What about you? Have you done your duty to Bertie?"

"No!" Edith retorted, though she smiled all the same. "I expect we'll be trying in earnest now, though."

Mary rolled her eyes but gave her sister an encouraging smile. "Well, good for you, Lady Hexham."

They all laughed.

"So what's next for you?" Sybil asked Mary. "A glorious honeymoon awaits, and after that?"

"I don't quite know," Mary shook her head. "I have interviews and a premiere in Paris once I return, but after that, nothing's planned yet. I don't even know where we're going to live. Toronto, to start, I think, but no idea beyond that."

"Has Aunt Rosamund not found you something by now?" Edith asked.

"Guest appearances on television shows, mostly," Mary grumbled. "It's been over a year now since I was last on screens in North America. That's an eternity."

"So what, then?" Sybil asked. "You'll keep making movies in France?"

"Maybe, I'll have to see," Mary replied plainly. "It's important to maintain my connections there so I have the option. It's easier to find my way back to America if I'm working, than if I'm not. My next two films will come out in the next six months. I'll evaluate things after that."

"You could always take a bit of a break. Matthew's doing more than well enough to support the both of you," Edith noted.

Mary frowned. "That's not an option. It's not a question of making a living. I have more than enough money already. It's building my career and my brand the way that I want to. Matthew is my husband, but who I am as an actress is not based on him, or on anyone else. I won't make career decisions based on what he's doing."

"That sounds good, but you must admit you made the wrong decision when it came to being in his movie," Sybil snickered.

Mary arched her eyebrow at her youngest sister. "Excuse me? You haven't even seen our films yet. They haven't been released!"

"Let's just be happy that both of you are doing well," Edith stated, giving her sisters a knowing look. "You're a married couple now. It's not a competition."

Sybil looked at her in disbelief. "Might I introduce you to your sister? Mrs. Everything-is-a-competition?"

Mary rolled her eyes.

"Tell us about Japan," Edith suggested.

Mary smiled again. "The weather should be wonderful. We fly into Tokyo first, spend a week there before going on to Kyoto and Osaka for the second week. I can't wait. The only bother is it's a 13-hour flight, but that can't be helped."

"A 13-hour flight on a private jet. Oh, the horrors," Sybil remarked sarcastically.

"By leaving this evening, we'll land in the afternoon there," Mary nodded, ignoring Sybil's joke.

"I really liked Tokyo," Edith agreed, recalling her own honeymoon. "We didn't spend much time there, though, and we didn't see the rest of the country."

Sybil smiled and looked out across the grounds for a moment. Looking back at her sisters, she laughed lightly. "Here we are, the Crawley sisters, all happily married. It's lovely, isn't it?"

Mary glanced at Edith before taking both of her sisters' hands and squeezing them. "It is, indeed."

* * *

"Here you are," Isobel smiled proudly, handing Matthew an envelope.

He took the envelope and looked at it curiously before opening it. A smile crossed his lips when he took out 20,000 yen in 5,000 and 1,000 yen notes.

"I had them left over from my trip, and I didn't bother exchanging them. It must have been a premonition," she stated.

He chuckled and nodded. 20,000 yen was about 140 quid, but he wasn't complaining. "Thank you, mother."

She pursed her lips and smoothed her hands over his shoulders, brushing away lint or dust that wasn't really there.

"Are you happy?" she asked quietly. "You look happy, and I imagine that you are, but are you truly?"

He grinned and nodded. "I am, mother. Truly, completely, ridiculously happy."

She smiled and pulled him into a hug, clutching him tight. "Good. Good."

"What about you? You happy?" he asked, holding her close.

"I am," she confirmed. "I'm looking forward to my next adventure."

"And where will that be?" he asked, drawing back from her and looking at her cautiously.

She smiled and caressed his face. "Don't fret. I'm staying here. Cora and I have decided to redo the gardens together. We're going to make a bit of a memorial for Violet, do some landscaping, plant some new annuals, that sort of thing. I expect it's going to keep me very busy."

He smiled and nodded with approval. "Good. I'm glad. I was afraid you were going to say you're off to spend a year in Katmandu, or something."

She laughed and shook her head, glancing around the Great Hall wistfully. "No. My life is here, now. Cora and I get along, Robert, too. It wouldn't feel right to go back to Manchester or live anywhere else. Downton is home, now. Besides, we're all family."

"That we are," he nodded.

"Darling?" Mary called, coming over to them. "The car's all loaded and we're ready to leave."

Matthew and Isobel both turned and smiled.

"Thank you so much," Mary said warmly, hugging Isobel. "Mama."

Isobel laughed and hugged her back. "Have a wonderful trip. I'm looking forward to hearing all about it."

Matthew smiled and looked on at the two most important women in his life getting along famously.

 **Bombardier Global Express XRS Private Jet, Somewhere over Kazakhstan, September 24, 2018**

"I'll give you full marks for creativity, that's for certain," Mary laughed, snuggling against her husband's bare chest. "Joining the 'Mile High Club' days into our marriage. Goodness."

"I must say I'm quite relieved," Matthew smiled, holding her close and pulling the duvet over them. "I was afraid the turbulence might cause an issue."

"Was there turbulence?" she smiled. "How disappointing. I thought that was your powerful thrusts making the bed shake."

"Thanks," he grumbled, tickling her playfully.

She laughed and kissed him lightly before settling back down. "Mmm, I can't remember the last time we had three weeks to ourselves."

"I'm debating turning our phones off completely when we get to Bora Bora, though I expect you won't agree," he replied.

"I might, or at least agree to limit the use of technology to an hour or two per day," she remarked, sliding her leg across his. "I suppose it will depend on what you intend to do to keep me occupied otherwise."

He laughed and ran his hand up and down her back.

"I'm sure you'll be more than content to enjoy the beach and the tropical waters," he replied. "Anyway, that's a few weeks away yet. I'm quite excited about being in Japan. It'll feel like being in a whole other world. Even when I was living in Spain, between their English and my Spanish, I could manage. This will be entirely new."

"So long as there are photos in the menus for me to point to, I'll be fine," she noted. "You are right, though. We've lived in some very culturally diverse cities, but this will be completely different."

"I'm sure you'll charm everyone, my darling," he smiled, kissing her lightly. "The celebrity watchers will be following your every move."

"God, I hope not," she shook her head. "If we could have some anonymity for these next two weeks, that would be glorious."

"Lady Mary Crawley wanting to be inconspicuous? Impossible. I imagine your Aunt Rosamund has already leaked our flight and hotel to the press," he smirked.

"I'm on my honeymoon. The only attention I want is yours," she answered pointedly. "And only Anna has our information. I gave her specific instructions not to tell anyone. If Aunt Rosamund wants to reach me, she'll text. It isn't as if she's got an Oscar-winning role begging for me to consider."

"I hope she doesn't. I've got a role in mind for you in my next film," he replied.

She lifted her head and looked at him suspiciously, arching her eyebrow. "Do you? Let me guess. Naïve Englishwoman traveling in a foreign land meets a suave gentleman who seduces her and teaches her all manner of decadent ways to please him?"

He grinned. "That's a very good guess."

She rolled her eyes. Kissing him lightly, she moved on top of him, his hands slipping down to cup her bottom. "And are you going to make me audition for this part, as you said you would?"

"I'm willing to give you first crack at it, yes," he nodded, groaning as she rubbed against him.

"And do you have a scene for me to do, or shall I improvise?" she asked, kissing his neck.

"I believe in collaboration with my actors," he sighed as she pressed against him, her kisses searing his skin. "Do whatever comes to mind."

"Very well," she laughed sultrily, kissing his chest. "See what you think of my interpretation."

He watched her wicked smile before she disappeared beneath the duvet. His looked over to one of the small porthole windows, the dark night staring back at him. He closed his eyes and groaned as he felt her mouth on him, the thought that it was his beautiful wife that was now loving him sending his arousal soaring.

"Mary," he whispered in appreciation.


	11. Chapter 11

**Previously:**

 **Bombardier Global Express XRS Private Jet, Somewhere over Kazakhstan, September 24, 2018**

"I'm on my honeymoon. The only attention I want is yours," she answered pointedly. "And only Anna has our information. I gave her specific instructions not to tell anyone. If Aunt Rosamund wants to reach me, she'll text. It isn't as if she's got an Oscar-winning role begging for me to consider."

"I hope she doesn't. I've got a role in mind for you in my next film," he replied.

She lifted her head and looked at him suspiciously, arching her eyebrow. "Do you? Let me guess. Naïve Englishwoman traveling in a foreign land meets a suave gentleman who seduces her and teaches her all manner of decadent ways to please him?"

He grinned. "That's a very good guess."

She rolled her eyes. Kissing him lightly, she moved on top of him, his hands slipping down to cup her bottom. "And are you going to make me audition for this part, as you said you would?"

"I'm willing to give you first crack at it, yes," he nodded, groaning as she rubbed against him.

"And do you have a scene for me to do, or shall I improvise?" she asked, kissing his neck.

"I believe in collaboration with my actors," he sighed as she pressed against him, her kisses searing his skin. "Do whatever comes to mind."

"Very well," she laughed sultrily, kissing his chest. "See what you think of my interpretation."

He watched her wicked smile before she disappeared beneath the duvet. His looked over to one of the small porthole windows, the dark night staring back at him. He closed his eyes and groaned as he felt her mouth on him, the thought that it was his beautiful wife that was now loving him sending his arousal soaring.

"Mary," he whispered in appreciation.

 **Chapter 11:**

 **Presidential Suite, Shangri-La Hotel, Tokyo, Japan, September 27, 2018**

Matthew blinked several times, slowly rousing himself to wakefulness. He knew it was closer to lunch than breakfast, but he didn't mind. Four days into their stay in Tokyo and his body hadn't fully adjusted to the time change yet. Partly it was the 8-hour time difference from London, but mostly it was that he and Mary hadn't been following a set schedule since landing here on Monday afternoon.

He sat up and stretched his arms, closing his eyes and groaning as his muscles protested. Tokyo was always alive with activity at all hours, the bright lights of the endless downtown just outside the window of their suite never dimming. In their short time here they had been uncharacteristically carefree. They woke up whenever they wanted to, went out for sushi and ramen noodles in the middle of the night and visited whatever museum, gallery, temple or shop they happened to come across. He found the lack of organization shocking considering how regimented Mary usually was about everything, but he was enjoying her relaxed mood immensely.

He was also shamelessly taking advantage of it.

They had already made love in every room of their lavish suite, and on most of the furniture. He was usually somewhat cautious when asking anything of her. It was obvious that he was the more voracious of the two of them when it came to desire. He didn't doubt that she wanted him. He never doubted that. However, he had long ago accepted that she didn't want him nearly as often as he wanted her, and so he tried not to be too demanding, lest she grow annoyed with his constant pleas for affection.

How wrong he was.

She had initiated most of their lovemaking without his having to even say anything. She seemed to delight in whispering scandalous words to him at the most inopportune times – such as when he was finishing a meal, or giving instructions to their driver on where they wanted to go. On more than one occasion he had asked her what part of the city she wished to visit next, only to be met by smouldering dark eyes, a perfectly arched eyebrow and a sultry 'let's go back to the hotel for a bit'. He had become quite popular amongst the staff at the restaurants and attractions they'd visited, as often he would throw excessive tips at them in his haste to get his wife back to their suite.

He expected he would need to buy the silence of the housekeepers by the time they left for Kyoto and Osaka. Each day when they returned from sightseeing, they found their room impeccably clean, as expected, with Mary's ripped lingerie from the previous evening neatly folded and placed on the bed.

It had become a bit of a game between them, to see who could shock the other more, either with the frequency of their lovemaking, or the novelty of the location. He had no idea who was ahead at this point, be he certainly did not feel like a loser. She must have read a book or something to come up with some of the positions they'd tried.

He opened his eyes and smiled as the object of his sordid thoughts came out of the bathroom, already dressed for a day out.

"Finally, you're awake," she smiled, coming over and kissing him lightly. "I thought you were going to spend all day in bed."

"I still might, if given proper incentive," he teased, kissing her again.

"Mmm, as tempting as that sounds, my personal shopper is waiting for me downstairs with the driver. We're off to Shinjuku. I shouldn't be more than an hour or two. Will you be all right?" she asked.

"I'll just go to the gym or something," he nodded. "We can eat when you get back. Maybe we should actually try one of the hotel restaurants this time?"

"I like that idea," she nodded, standing back up. "It will make coming back up here far easier."

He chuckled as she gave him a teasing smirk and left the bedroom. He heard her heels click on the tiled foyer moments later, and the front door close behind her after that.

Hopping out of bed, he quickly threw on some clothes and went out into the large two-storey living room. He checked his phone before buzzing for their assigned butler to come to the room. The man himself arrived within two minutes.

"Mr. Crawley, sir," the butler smiled, bowing respectfully when he came in. "How may I help you?"

"Yukio, I have a bit of a favour to ask," Matthew explained. "Have you ever heard of Mibu, the restaurant?"

Yukio smiled and nodded his head. "It is by invitation only, sir. You cannot get a reservation. Even the location itself is kept secret."

Matthew smiled. "That's exactly what I heard. Well, as you can imagine, my wife would be very appreciative if I could somehow arrange a dinner for us there. I understand we wouldn't be able to dine alone, and that's fine. I know it's a lot to ask, and may even be impossible to arrange, but is there any way that we could get in during our stay, do you think?"

Yukio looked away in thought for a moment. "It would be impossible. No one in the hotel has access."

Matthew sighed. "Well, it was worth a try."

Yukio smiled. "No one in the hotel has access, but I know some people. I will see. No promises. If somehow I can do it, you must be ready to go immediately. They will give me a date and time, and you must be able to make it. It will not look favourably on me if you do not show up."

Matthew's eyes brightened. "Of course! Of course! Yes, if you can somehow manage it, I'll make sure we're there! Anytime, it doesn't matter."

Yukio bowed. "Will that be all, sir?"

"For now, yes. Thank you, Yukio. I appreciate all of your help," Matthew replied, bowing slightly to the butler in return. "And please, not a word of this to Lady Mary, particularly if my efforts prove unsuccessful."

Yukio nodded and left.

Matthew turned and headed back to the bedroom to grab his gym clothes and change. He grinned as his mind stirred with possibilities. Mibu was the best restaurant in Japan, possibly the world. The rumour was that it only seated eight at a time, and the only way to be invited was at the request of a member. Further, the members were only permitted to dine there once per month, so it was unlikely that any member would waste their precious privileges on a pair of strangers from England. The beauty of the place was that one couldn't simply buy one's way in. It was all about knowing the right people. If Matthew had learned anything in his professional life, it was that the staff of a place knew the city better than anyone else, and always had favours they could call in, or connections they could tap. This meal would likely still cost him a small fortune, but to see the look on Mary's face if he managed to arrange it somehow would be priceless.

He went into the bathroom and began changing his clothes, letting himself dream about the impossible. She was already quite attentive to him already this trip. If he pulled this off, he could barely fathom what she would do to show him her gratitude.

 **Hermès Isetan Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan, September 26, 2018**

The store clerk and personal shopper gushed over the exclusive hand bags placed on the glass counter before Mary, extolling the craftsmanship and features as though they were the Crown Jewels themselves. She listened patiently, already well familiar with the expensive leather pieces being presented. She really didn't need to spend a few ten thousand quid on another designer bag, but the Tokyo boutique had certain purses that Paris did not, and she was curious.

Though she would never admit it, she also needed to get away from Matthew for a few hours. They had spent every minute together since their arrival, and she was having trouble controlling herself. She didn't know if it was being in a strange country that made her gravitate towards him more than usual, or if it was just the natural high of being newlyweds, but her appetite for her husband was shockingly insatiable. They were on their honeymoon, so of course, she expected to have sex every night, was quite happy to do so, even, but this was getting ridiculous. They were going at it two or three times a day so far, and even when they weren't making love, she would pinch his ass or suggestively play with his fingers, even when they were walking through a museum or temple and were supposed to behave.

She needed to pull herself together, which was why a shopping trip was the perfect distraction. They had become more daring lately, having sex against the window of their suite in broad daylight, making out in the elevator, groping each other secretly in the car. She could picture the headlines now – 'Lady Mary Crawley caught having sex with new husband in washroom of Tokyo restaurant!' She was enjoying herself so much that she dared to find the thought rather exciting, instead of out of the question.

Since stepping off the jet, there had been a distinct vibe about Tokyo that she loved. Just walking the streets, surrounded by architecture, people, language and culture that was so very new and different to her felt exotic and adventurous. She was enjoying even basic moments, such as getting lost in the myriad streets, struggling to order food, and even braving the scramble street crossing at Shibuya. It truly felt as if the two of them were on an expedition of discovery.

There had been the odd autograph request. _Paladin_ was relatively popular here and she was recognized a few times a day, but that wasn't onerous. It actually fed her excitement, this sense that she and Matthew were so very much out of their element, but still stars on some higher level, able to do anything they wanted to.

"I'll take this one, and the matching scarf," she decided, nodding towards her chosen bag.

The clerk beamed with delight at having hit her weekly sales target in one go. The personal shopper tittered away with her in Japanese as she went about wrapping up the items in the designer's iconic orange box.

It was oddly liberating, being on the other side of the world from Europe and North America, with just her husband to rely on. No responsibilities or duties, not even an itinerary that they had to adhere to. She felt reckless and bold, unaffected by her reputation or profile. All of her career problems and questions were thousands of kilometres away. All that mattered was the moment she was living, and she didn't spare a thought for anything else.

She took a sip of water and went over to look at the men's ties on display nearby. Reaching out, she ran her fingers over the smooth silk. A smile crossed her lips and she shook her head, chastising herself for the decidedly lurid thoughts that she was having on how her husband might use these were she to buy a few for him.

Her phone buzzed and she took it out of her bag, smirking when she saw the text from Matthew.

' _Are you almost done? I'm hungry.'_

She rolled her eyes and sighed in defeat, a happy smile filling her face. Oh, well. At least she would get a little bit of publicity from their inevitable sex scandal.

' _I'm coming, darling'_ she typed her reply.

"And these four as well, please," she called out to her personal shopper, pointing to the ties.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, September 28, 2018**

"Right. Right. Right. Well, I don't think any of that will be a problem. He's on his honeymoon right now, but he's back in middle of October and I'm sure he'll be pleased to get going on that. I'll pass on the message and we'll all touch base on his return? Perfect. Great. Thanks. Bye."

Alex sighed and put his phone down on the nightstand. Groaning tiredly, he turned over and reached for his wife, spooning behind her.

"Everything okay, babes?" Anna murmured, her eyes closed.

"Mmm hmm," he replied, reaching around and caressing her stomach then moving up to her cleavage. "The studio's just eager for Matthew to get going on the edits to the movie."

"Why can't they call his agent about that?" she asked, covering his hand with hers and snuggling back against him. "Not to mention why can't they call at a decent hour?"

"I'm the one who did the deal, so they call me. Besides, Joe would end up calling me anyway with Matthew away, so it's more efficient to deal with it myself," Alex replied. "And they call when they feel like it. Investing millions of dollars sort of gets you that privilege."

"Mmm," she accepted, not particularly caring either way. "So you'll email him, then?"

"In a few days. I don't want him to think about it while he's on his honeymoon. Better to just mention it after he's been over there for a week or more," he stated.

She turned in his hold and snuggled against his shoulder, the warmth of his body washing over her. "That's rather kind of you."

"I remember what it was like to be on my honeymoon. Work is the last thing one thinks about," he smiled.

"Is that so? Well, tell me, what thoughts does one have when on honeymoon?" she teased.

He laughed. "Are you saying you don't remember?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure, rather. Must not have been very memorable," she smiled.

"Yeah," he huffed, spanking her lightly.

She laughed and kissed him. "I suppose it's possible that I thought about how lucky I was to marry such a hot, sexy, man. That, and how great the food was."

"I'll take that," he smiled, kissing her back. "So long as I was in there somewhere."

"Mmm, I'm so glad you decided for us to come back here," she whispered, sliding her leg between his.

"Seemed like a waste for us to spend three weeks in London or Paris," he stated. "We'll be back soon enough, anyway."

"Yeah. Mary's got promotion for _Orlena_ coming up and the premiere at the beginning of November," she replied. "After that, who knows?"

"Will this one be better than _The Muse_ , do you think?" he asked.

"Hard to say," she answered, eyes still closed. "Edna says that Paul has high hopes for it. His idea of success is different, though. He always turns a tidy profit on the worldwide box office, and as long as he keeps his investors happy, he's happy."

"Fair enough. Breaking even is a decent goal for most movies," he agreed. "I doubt that will be enough for Mary over the long term, though."

"It won't be, but what other choice does she have?" she asked. "She's tied to him for _Orlena_ and _Duplicity_ , at least. I suppose she'll see what comes up in the New Year."

He hummed in agreement and relaxed against the pillow.

She slowly fell back asleep. Truly, she wasn't as concerned about Mary's future as she was about her own. The wedding having come off wonderfully, she could now relax and have some time to herself. She and Alex had taken full advantage, enjoying their time back home together. She knew only time would tell if her hopes and dreams for a baby would finally come true, and that lovely thought was what filled her head as she drifted off in his arms.

 **Mori Art Museum, 53** **rd** **Floor, Roppongi Hills Mori Tower, Tokyo, Japan, September 29, 2018**

Matthew wandered through the exhibit halls, more confused than impressed. The contemporary art museum was stunning in many ways, housed on a towering floor of a gleaming skyscraper. Still, some of the sculptures and pieces were a bit underwhelming, and some of the paintings easily forgettable. There were the requisite colourful dragons and metallic figures that seemed to be pulled straight from a Japanese manga comic, and other more normal pieces that weren't overly impressive. Living in Paris for most of the year had spoiled him when it came to art and museums, but he walked dutifully on, patiently waiting as Mary took her time to check everything out.

"It's not terribly noteworthy, is it?" she declared finally, returning to his side.

He smiled and took her hand. "Just wait."

He led her down a hallway, through another room and finally around a corner.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening.

"One benefit of having a gallery on the 53rd floor is the view," he noted, leading her over to the tall glass windows along one wall.

Their hotel suite had stunning views as it was, and on a clear day they could see even as far as Mt. Fuji. However, the museum was much higher up, and she felt as if she was looking down on the city from the clouds. It was rare to have such a vantage point. London and Paris especially were more low-rise cities, and even back in Toronto, her condo had been in the 30s.

She smiled, pressing her hands against the cool glass. The city was all office towers, apartment buildings, cars flying along the expressway and neon lights blinking all the way to the horizon. It was so different from any other city she'd ever been to, and there was an energy here that she quite liked.

He came up behind her and circled his arms around her waist, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. "What do you think about when you look at this view?"

She smiled and covered his hands with hers. "I see progress. I think I've always had an impression of Japan as being very traditional, set in the past. But looking at all this, everything so modern, it sort of makes me think of how important it is to be open to any possibility, to be daring and try something new, just to see where it leads."

"I think we could all use a bit of that," he agreed. "I sometimes think we can be rather rigid in our approach and expectations. Really, as actors, we're supposed to be adaptable, to adjust to any situation, play any role."

"I think that perhaps one of the problems I had even before going to France was thinking that I only wanted to play a certain type of character, be a certain type of role. Maybe I need to be more willing to push my boundaries and see where it takes me," she mused.

He smiled and held her, gazing out at the sprawl of the city below. "Anything you try I am sure will work out brilliantly, my darling."

She breathed deeply and looked up to the blue sky, pondering this new sense of discovery she was feeling. For so many months now she felt scared and cautious, as if her very existence hinged on every decision. Going to France, working with Paul on three films, choosing not to work with Matthew, she had second guessed herself over and over every time. She felt far more confident now, not just in herself, but in letting things play out. She didn't need to be in control of every minute detail. She could be more spontaneous, more daring, more impulsive in her personal and professional life without worrying about the consequences so much. She had weathered so many storms recently that she was afraid of what was around the corner, rather than trusting in her strength to persevere.

"Anything else you want to look at?" he asked, bringing her back to the present.

She turned and smiled at him. "No. Let's go back to the hotel for a bit."

His eyes lit up. "Back to the hotel?"

"Yes," she replied, arching her eyebrow in challenge. "Let's go back to the hotel and fuck."

He grinned and kissed her quickly before stepping back and offering her his arm.

"Right this way, m'lady," he bowed.

She laughed and took his arm, falling in step as he led her to the elevators.

 **Presidential Suite, Shangri-La Hotel, Tokyo, Japan, September 29, 2018**

"God, whoever would have thought that quiet, milquetoast Matthew Crawley could be such a merciless lover?" she laughed, kissing her way up his chest.

"Merciless?" he questioned, smirking and kissing her lips. "Me?"

"Yes, you," she arched her eyebrow at him. "Merciless, relentless, demanding, have your pick. They all apply. I don't even want to see what my hair must look like."

"It looks very nice," he replied smoothly, tucking a few loose strands behind her ear.

"It looks like I've been put through my paces, I'm sure," she teased. "As for the rest of me, I need to recover. I'm going to take a shower."

"Excellent idea," he smiled, kissing her again and moving to get up.

"Oh, no you don't," she laughed, pushing him back down. "If I let you shower with me, clean is the last thing I'll be. You stay here."

"What?" he exclaimed, staring at her in shock.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. I need a proper rinse, so you keep your distance," she confirmed.

"I rinse," he pouted.

"Yes, you do, invariably after you pin me against the wall and have your way again," she retorted, giving him a quick kiss before rolling out of his reach. "I won't be long."

He frowned and watched her naked body disappear into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her.

"Minx," he muttered, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stretched his arms and smiled, the dishevelled state of the bed, as well as their clothes strewn across the floor filled him with juvenile pride.

He blinked when the hotel phone rang. Reaching over to his bedside, he picked it up.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Mr. Crawley, it's Yukio. I'm calling about your special request," the butler said crisply.

"Ah, yes," Matthew nodded, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the bathroom door was still locked. He could hear the water running from the shower, making him confident Mary wouldn't discover his phone call. "How is that coming along?"

"Very well, sir. I have located a member who is willing to include you and Lady Mary as part of her dining party," Yukio advised.

Matthew grinned in delight. "That's brilliant! Oh, thank you, Yukio. Thank you!"

"You're most welcome, sir. Now, she is eating there tomorrow night at 7 p.m. Her name is Anne Acland. She is an executive of one of the major banks here in Japan, but is originally from England, which is why she was pleased to assist you," Yukio explained. "In return, she requests a donation from you."

"By all means," Matthew nodded. "I'm more than happy to."

"I've arranged for your driver to take you to the restaurant tomorrow night. I'll leave it to you to explain where you are going to Lady Mary. I'll come and get you at 6:30, to ensure you arrive promptly," Yukio finished.

"I'm looking forward to it. Thank you, again. Cheers. Bye," Matthew smiled, hanging up the call.

He put the phone down and looked over his shoulder at the bathroom door once more. His wife was just beyond, having a shower, completely oblivious to what he had planned for her tomorrow night. He could not wait to see the look on her face when they arrived at the renowned invitation-only restaurant.

"Let's see you keep me out of the shower tomorrow," he whispered, a smug smile on his face.

 **Mibu Restaurant, Tokyo, Japan, September 30, 2018**

"You don't know where we're going, do you?" Mary demanded, scowling at her husband as he led her down another non-descript street.

"Almost there," Matthew smiled at her, squeezing her hand.

"Almost where?" she sighed, rolling her eyes.

"You'll see," he repeated for the twentieth time that night.

They had spent the day at the Imperial Palace grounds, strolling leisurely through the beautiful park, touring the ancient Edo Castle, enjoying the museum and gallery, and taking dozens of photos and selfies around the residence of the Emperor. The weather was warm and pleasant, and after enjoying the frenetic pace of Tokyo for the past week, the calming peace of the palace grounds was a welcome respite.

They had a light sushi lunch at yet another humble, but fantastic restaurant. Matthew didn't reveal that he had a surprise for her until after they finished their afternoon tryst.

"What do you mean you're taking me somewhere special?" she asked, immediately curious. "Where is this somewhere, exactly?"

"It's a surprise, and it's very special," he replied, grinning at her piqued interest.

"But what will I wear? I need to at least know more for that purpose," she noted.

"Nothing too formal. We're going somewhere small and intimate. You can be elegant, but not showy," he answered mysteriously.

She frowned at his evasiveness.

Her Louboutin heels clicked on the pavement. She had finally settled on a navy long-sleeve top with a vee-neck, and a white skirt with blue diagonal stripes. He wore a grey buttoned shirt with no tie and navy trousers, all from Armani, naturally. She left her more expensive jewellery in the hotel safe, choosing the bracelet that Matthew gave her, as well as a pair of delicate pearl earrings. She liked her look, deeming it sophisticated, but functional for any number of destinations. As they passed a bland industrial building, her frustration was about to boil over.

"This way," he declared, nodding towards a small lit staircase.

"To where? A car park?" she snapped.

He smiled and led her up the stairs.

She blinked when they reached the top and were greeted by an elderly woman dressed in a traditional Japanese kimono. The woman bowed respectfully, but eyed them suspiciously.

"Matthew Crawley and Lady Mary Crawley," Matthew announced. "Guests of Miss Acland."

The woman smiled and gestured for them to follow. She led them into a small, windowless room, decorated sparsely in the Japanese tatami style, with translucent shoji panel screen doors, polished wood walls and smooth mats on the floor. A single wooden table dominated the small space, and an elderly chef was busy speaking to six other guests.

The woman gestured for Mary to be seated at one place and Matthew next to her. They took their seats and she left to fetch tea.

"Matthew and Lady Mary," a tall brunette smiled, coming over to them and sitting down next to Matthew. "Anne Acland."

"Pleased to meet you," Matthew smiled back. "My wife, Mary. Mary, Anne Acland, our generous benefactor."

Mary smiled and greeted Anne. "Is this?"

"Welcome to Mibu," Anne confirmed with a nod. "Ishida-san will have the first course out shortly, but first, Hattori-san will serve tea."

The guests watched as the elderly woman came out carrying a teapot with a strangely long spout. She poured the tea from a height into each of their ornate cups. She gestured towards a painting on the wall of a dancer. "Almost 80 years-old. See how it is drawn with one unbroken line?" she noted. "Art gives us power."

Mary looked over at the small painting and smiled. The small room did feel charged, as though they were about to embark on an once-in-a-lifetime culinary experience.

"Special enough for you?" Matthew whispered, leaning over and patting her thigh.

"It will do," she answered, giving him a teasing smirk.

Through the first few sumptuous dishes, Anne introduced the other guests as clients of hers – all of them Japanese. She was an executive at the American branch of one of Japan's largest commercial banks. During her time in Japan, she became a member at Mibu, and now flew back here from her home in San Francisco once a month just to dine at this exclusive place. Through sheer luck, she happened to be in the city at the same time as Mary and Matthew, and had two places available tonight.

"I've been coming here for 8 years and I've never had the same dish twice," Anne nodded proudly. "Ishida-san is an absolute master. His food isn't something you can buy with money. It's an experience to be enjoyed and appreciated, and not everyone is capable, or learned enough in food to truly do so. That's why it's so hard to get in. It's not a case of whether you can afford it. It's whether you deserve it. I was told by someone that I trust that the two of you would appreciate being here."

Matthew nodded. Alex was the biggest gastronome he knew, and Mary was a close second. When he told his best friend that he had secured a reservation at Mibu, he thought he could hear his jealous scream all the way from Toronto.

"I love how each dish makes sense," Mary nodded. "It's clean, but not simple. Every element is exactly where it ought to be, and it's seasonal, without being pretentious."

Anne smiled in agreement. "Exactly. I love San Francisco and Napa for food and wine, but they don't even come close to this."

They were served at an easy pace, given more than enough time to truly savour each dish and the drinks pairing that went with it. There was grilled fish, perfectly seasoned eggplant, melt-in-your-mouth sashimi and easily the best dashi broth that Mary and Matthew had ever tasted. The conversation was pleasant, Anne switched from English to Japanese seamlessly to speak to all of her guests. Mary politely engaged with the man sitting next to her, who's English wasn't so bad. Matthew felt an obligation to speak to Anne, to convey his gratitude for her invitation.

"I hope you don't take offence, Anne, but you look remarkably young to be a bank executive," Matthew smiled.

She laughed and nodded. "Thank you. I'm older than you are, more than you think. I was fortunate. A few years ago, there was a real push here to promote women to executive positions, particularly among the banks and larger corporations. I moved up far quicker than I would have, otherwise."

"When was the last time you were in England?" he asked as Hattori-san cleared their dishes in preparation for the next course.

"Far too long ago. It's been years," Anne said wistfully. "My husband's family still lives there. Mine's now in the States with me."

"Ah, and what does he do?" he asked.

"He passed away six years ago. Cancer," she replied, looking down at the table.

"I'm sorry," he said earnestly, regretting instantly that he'd even asked.

"That's all right," she nodded, looking at him again. "I suppose that's why I like coming here so often. He loved it here, too."

Matthew nodded in understanding as the next course – impossibly thin Kobe beef tataki – was served.

* * *

The aperitif was a light and fruity champagne with plum liquor, brewed in the north. Anne's other guests thanked her and the chef profusely before departing, leaving her behind with Matthew and Mary. Though the meal was over, he didn't want to leave. They spent time chatting with Ishida-san and his wife, Hattori-san. They had countless tales of their near 40 years of running the restaurant, stories about all the celebrity chefs who had come here, almost on pilgrimage. After a half hour, the chef and his wife departed to grateful thanks from Anne, Matthew and Mary. Their champagne was refilled, and the small room left for their use.

"I'm going to go and freshen up," Mary nodded, rising from her seat and heading out to the washroom down the hall.

"Your wife is very beautiful," Anne stated once Mary had left the restaurant.

"She is," Matthew agreed. "I only wonder how I was lucky enough to marry her about a dozen times a day."

She laughed freely, taking a sip of her champagne. "Did you enjoy yourself tonight, Matthew?"

He smiled and nodded. "It was easily the best meal I've ever had. I'm grateful to you for inviting us along. I know you must receive dozens of requests each month."

"Sometimes hundreds," she laughed. "I don't usually bring strangers here, but in your case, I'm quite glad that I did."

"As am I," he nodded. "It will hopefully fool my wife into thinking I have some use for a while longer."

She laughed and patted his hand. "Now, after this lovely meal, why don't we go and get some dessert? I know the perfect place."

He blinked in surprise but nodded all the same. "That's very generous of you. I'm sure Mary would be up for it."

"Oh, I'd rather she not come along," she stated. "She can go back to your hotel, or do whatever she likes. Tokyo doesn't close at night, after all."

He frowned slightly before composing himself. "I'm sorry?"

"I don't want your wife with us, Matthew," she reiterated. "I've done you a priceless favour by inviting you to dine with me tonight. Now, it's only fair that you accommodate me by serving as my escort this evening."

He coughed in shock. "You want me to accompany you to dessert alone?"

"You'll accompany me to dessert and come with me to my apartment afterwards," she instructed. "I'm married to my work now, with my husband passed on, but there are some needs that I still require to be fulfilled."

"Erm…forgive me, Anne. You are a beautiful woman, but I'm married, and I do not…" he stammered.

"I understand," she nodded. "If you need to see Mary back to your hotel first, that's fine. My driver will wait for you and once you've given her a sufficient excuse or put her to bed, you can come and meet me."

He blinked. "What? No! You misunderstand me."

"I don't believe that I do," she shrugged. "I see a man who owes me a favour, one that cannot be repaid in money. Since there are no other restaurants comparable to this one, you can't offer me anything of equal value, except for what I am requiring of you tonight."

"What about your other guests? Have you made similar arrangements with them?" he struggled, his mind reeling.

"They're my clients," she scoffed. "You, on the other hand, are the beneficiary of my goodwill, and you must now pay what you owe."

"Anne, I…" he mumbled.

"You'll enjoy it, Matthew," she drawled, leaning towards him. "I promise. I've seen your photos online. You are exactly what I'm looking for."

She reached over and ran a finger along the collar of his shirt.

"Anne, no!" he shouted, jumping out of his chair and stepping away from her. "I apologize if you find me rude, but I love my wife! I will not betray her under any circumstance! Now, if someone gave you the impression that I would be amenable to some sort of arrangement tonight in return for your generosity, I am sorry for the miscommunication, but I assure you that all I was told was that you wanted a donation in return for your benevolence."

"That's right," she nodded easily. "I'm looking for a donation, and you are exactly the donor I'm looking for."

His eyes almost flew from his head. "But…by donation, I assumed that you wanted a donation to your favourite charity!"

She smiled and shook her head. "No, Matthew. I have more than enough money of my own to donate to charity. What I do not have is a handsome, virile Englishman to assist me in the next phase of my life. You'll do nicely for that purpose."

He coughed several times, hitting his chest to catch his breath. "I was not aware of that at all, but the answer is still no. I also am aghast at you for doing this. You're an attractive, successful woman. Meeting men should be ridiculously easy for you."

"Well, thank you," she smiled. "Unfortunately, I simply do not have time for dating. This way is far more efficient. Do not worry, though. I'll take full custody and responsibility. No one will ever need to know, including your lovely wife."

She rose from her chair and turned towards him.

"Anne, please, stay away from me," he warned, holding his hand up in front of him.

"Or what, Matthew?" she questioned. "It would be a shame if your wife caught us in a compromising position when she returned, or if I confessed to her about how you propositioned me while she was in the loo. Agree to my terms. Tell her we're just going to have some dessert and she can go on back to the hotel."

"She would never agree to that," he shook his head, swallowing nervously as she approached.

"Why not? Because she would be afraid of you succumbing to me if we were left alone?" she teased. "Surely she trusts you?"

"She does. She probably would be angrier to be missing out on a special dessert," he replied ruefully.

The sound of laughter rang out from behind the door.

Matthew looked up in shock as Mary came back in, laughing despite covering her mouth with her hand.

"Well played, Matthew," Anne smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "You're a keeper."

He blinked in shock as Anne stepped back and hugged Mary, the two of them holding on to each other as they laughed anew.

"What? Mary? Anne? What is going on?" he demanded.

"Oh, darling, I love you so," Mary laughed, coming over and kissing him playfully.

He stared at her in utter confusion.

"Allow me to properly introduce you to Anne Acland," Mary continued, reaching out and taking Anne's hand. "Anne goes by her married name. Her maiden name is Anstruther."

"Anstruther," Matthew repeated, frowning as the name triggered something in his brain. He blinked and stared at Anne. "Anstruther as in Lady Anstruther? The friend of Cora's?"

"Yes, that one. I call Lady Anstruther Mummy. It's easier that way," Anne smiled.

Matthew looked from Mary to Anne and back again.

"Imagine my surprise when I received a text last night from my old family friend, Anne, telling me that she'd been asked, or begged, rather, to invite my husband and me to dinner at Mibu?" Mary smiled. "Well, I told her that I would be most grateful if she would extend us the privilege, and in addition to making a donation to Oxfam, I offered to provide the evening's entertainment."

"You…you…" he stuttered, looking at both women in turn. "You planned this?"

"It was so cute of you to want to surprise Mary," Anne nodded. "And she assured me that no matter what I tried, you wouldn't give in. I must say my ego is a bit bruised as a result, but I'm happy for the both of you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it to your wedding. Mummy and Daddy said it was spectacular. This was a rather enjoyable consolation, however."

"On second thought, Anne, I think I'll have that dessert after all," Matthew said, glaring at Mary.

"I'm sorry, Matthew, but my husband probably wouldn't appreciate it if I brought along a man that I just met," Anne laughed. "He's out with friends tonight and we're meeting for dessert later."

Matthew shook his head ruefully.

"Good night, darling," Anne smiled, hugging Mary warmly. "It was so wonderful to see you! We must catch up properly."

"We're in Kyoto and Osaka this week. I'll text you from the hotel and we can have a chat," Mary replied.

"Perfect," Anne nodded. She turned and smiled at Matthew. "Lovely to meet you, Matthew."

"The same to you," he chuckled, still keeping his distance. "Thanks again for the dinner. It was fantastic. The entertainment, not so much, but I don't hold you responsible for that."

Anne laughed and waved goodbye before she left the restaurant.

"That was uncalled for," Matthew stated firmly, rounding on Mary.

"Oh, relax, darling," she scoffed, smiling and taking his hand. "It was all in good fun. What woman doesn't enjoy teasing a man and making him squirm a little bit?"

"You don't see anything wrong with your…with your…ruse…at all?" he sputtered, leading her to the door.

"Not at all. I would have even let her take it further if you hadn't made me laugh so hard," she giggled.

"Mary!" he scolded her. "Don't joke!"

"Oh, come now," she huffed, turning and pulling him to her. "I knew you would never cheat on me. There was never a doubt in my mind that you would resist her attempts at seduction."

"Even still, I hardly deserve for you to play with me like that!" he protested, his hands coming around her waist. "And what about Anne? She's married."

"Oh, she enjoys a clever scheme as much as anyone. Besides, any woman – married or otherwise – loves the power of flirting and putting a man in her thrall."

"Still, that was entirely uncalled for," he sneered.

"Possibly, and I did consider that you would react this way, but I was confident that you would forgive me for it," she replied.

"And why is that? Because you know I'm so in love with you that I'd forgive you anything?" he frowned.

"Not at all," she assured him. "First, I knew you would pass the test without any problems, so no real harm was done."

"And second?" he enquired, still frowning at her.

"Second, I would never play with you to deliberately hurt your feelings, and if I have, I am prepared to make amends. If you do feel sufficiently aggrieved by my little prank, I will accept any punishment you deem satisfactory," she smiled, arching her eyebrow.

"You think that's enough, do you?" he asked, his frown lifting slightly. "Tempt me and that erases all your transgressions?"

"I promise never to prank you again," she nodded. "Now take me back to the hotel and punish me."

He grunted at her playful expression. "This would seem to make me appear weak, that you can just bat your eyelashes and get away with anything."

"Oh, but I'm not getting away with it, am I?" she whispered. "You're going to teach me a lesson. You're going to show me what happens if I dare to play with you again. Isn't that what you're always saying? Actions have consequences? Well, go on and show me what I've got coming to me."

"You're not going to get out of this so easily, Mary," he warned, escorting her out the door and over to the stairs.

"I certainly hope not," she smirked, following him back down to the street.

 **La Table du Lancaster, 8e arrondissement, Paris, France, October 4, 2018**

"The interview schedule is ready. I will have Edna send it to you," Paul nodded, taking another bite of fish.

"Yes, Papa," Aline replied in French, sipping her sparkling water.

" _Marie_ will be doing the most appearances. Some, she will be with Jimmy. Others, she will be with you. They will ask you about what it was like to work with an English actress. I want you to say that she was very professional and very brave. Tell them that she was willing to do anything to make the movie better," he instructed her between bites.

She smiled. "I can say that we finished another movie together and I hope that she stays in France for a very long time, that she belongs here."

He smiled. "Bon, bon. What have you heard from Félix?"

She shrugged. "I was with him last night. It is as you would expect. He says that Xavier is eager. He was impressed by _Marie_ , both here and in Toronto."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "We must keep him happy. His help is worth tens of millions to us. You never know. He could be Président one day."

She laughed. "Jean-Paul would like that. It would make it much easier for him to do his deals without having to seek approvals and the like."

"That is for the future. For now, we must all do our part to continue to receive his help. _Marie_ is the key, and she is almost ready," he declared.

"What if she leaves us, or if she does not obey? Do you have someone else in mind for him?" she asked.

He grunted and shook his head. "Xavier wants her. That is all he has said. Do what I tell you during the promotional tour, and by première night, all will be as we want."

"Yes, Papa," she smiled and nodded obediently.

 **Lotus Karaoke Bar, Osaka, Japan, October 5, 2018**

"Here? No," Mary shook her head, frowning at the garish neon sign above the small entrance.

"You're the one who said she was open to any and all things, weren't you?" Matthew smirked. "There's Irish pubs and hotel bars we can go to, but since we're here for a decidedly Japanese experience, we can't leave without having a go at karaoke, can we?"

She arched her eyebrow at him, looking warily at the small bar. "It seems rather tiny."

"Think of it as performance at its most pure," he smiled. "Right amongst your audience."

She let him take her hand and lead her into the bar. There had to be no more than ten seats in total, and the place was already quite busy at this late hour. A young Japanese woman was singing Taylor Swift while the bartender was pouring drinks and telling jokes. Though it was hardly the type of place Mary would usually frequent, she had to smile at how happy and boisterous everyone was.

Their week in Kyoto and Osaka had been so different from their time in Tokyo. Kyoto was a more traditional and ancient city by comparison. They visited castles and museums, stunning parks and quiet restaurants. It was very much like going back in time.

Osaka was far more vibrant, a modern metropolis with plenty of history and culture, but known more for its food and entertainment. The district they were in now was open 24 hours a day, and tourists and students were far more of a presence. They had gone dancing at glittering nightclubs and dined at Michelin starred restaurants, but with just a few days left in Japan, she wanted a more authentic experience tonight. Being able to live in luxury was wonderful, but it made their visit no different than if they were in New York, London, or Paris. One of the things she loved so much about eating at Mibu was how unassuming it was. The food was all that mattered. She wanted a similar experience here.

Matthew had arranged it all without telling her once again, which was mildly annoying. They had street food all day – fresh ramen, authentic okonomiyaki savoury pancakes, and takoyaki fried snacks. It was probably horrible for her to eat so recklessly, but she loved it all. She had an inkling he was going to take her to some dive bar or place that one would never expect to find them, but this was still quite a shock.

"I'm Matthew. My wife, Mary," Matthew smiled, shaking hands with the bartender and greeting the other patrons gathered around them. It was a fun lot. She suspected some of them might have recognized them, particularly the Canadian tourists, but no one was fawning over them. Matthew ordered her preferred shochu liquor and she relaxed a bit more amidst the lively conversation and hilariously off-key, but enthusiastic singing.

* * *

Several drinks and countless laughs later, the microphone was handed to Matthew. Somehow she had found her way to an open bar stool, and she perched on it, looking at him curiously. He smiled at her and pointed the microphone in her direction, a challenge in his eyes.

"No, not tonight," she laughed, taking another sip of her drink.

"I'll have a go, then," he nodded. Without even saying anything to the bartender, a song was loaded into the system.

She arched her eyebrow at him inquisitively. "What are you playing at?"

He just smiled and kept his eyes on her, not even looking at the televisions for the lyrics to come up. The slow piano track was all that he needed.

 _"Three in the morning, I can't be dreaming, I'm wide awake. Watching you sleeping and I realize there's no place that I'd rather be…"_

The crowd exploded in cheers and applause, the noise reverberating off the walls and ceiling as Matthew kept singing. Most of them were drunk, but they still knew a good voice when they heard one. She just smiled and let him take her hand, keeping her eyes on his as a delightful warmth filled her chest. It was like back in Toronto when she saw him sing at The Rex quite by accident, but this time he really was serenading only her.

 _"If you think this is as good as it gets, I swear you haven't seen nothing yet. I promise you I'm gonna love you the rest of my life…"_

The crowd cheered even louder when Matthew finished the song. Normally, she would be a bit embarrassed for him to cause such a scene in front of complete strangers, but this time she didn't mind at all. Leaning forward, she placed her hands on his face and kissed him soundly, drawing even more applause.

* * *

It was well past midnight when they left the karaoke bar, the place still packed and buzzing with wannabe singers. Matthew was about to call for their driver to collect them to take them back to the Ritz-Carlton, but Mary dissuaded him.

"Let's walk for a bit. It's such a lovely evening," she smiled, taking his arm and leaning into him.

"Why not? It isn't as if we've kept normal hours at all since we got here," he agreed.

The entertainment district was full of restaurants, bars and nightclubs, and was so brightly lit it was almost impossible to tell what time it was. She clung to his arm as they moved leisurely along, no real idea of where they were going, just enjoying the night.

"Has this honeymoon been to your liking, my darling?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Thus far, yes," she nodded, smiling back at him. "I readily admit that Japan was an inspired choice."

"I've been pleasantly surprised at how quickly you've embraced the country and its culture," he nodded. "These two weeks have gone by so fast."

"They have. Still, I can't complain. We're going to Bora Bora," she noted, smiling at the thought. "These two weeks have been wonderful, but I wouldn't mind some time away from the cities, a quiet place to relax."

"To bask in the sunshine, swim in the ocean?" he suggested.

"Not too much sunshine. I do freckle easily," she smirked.

"I can help you with that," he nodded.

"Much obliged, sir," she teased.

They wandered into a side street and passed beneath an archway, not paying particular attention to where they were going, their usual easy banter keeping them occupied. If they were apart, or traveling with anyone else, their mood would be different. She wouldn't even be here at this hour. He would be looking around nervously, concerned about getting his bearings and figuring out directions to get back to the hotel. Together, though, they were calm and at ease, happy to just be.

Their path was lit by the glow of round streetlamps overhead and bright signs written in Japanese above the restaurants on either side of them. Still wrapped up in conversation, they didn't look away from each other until a voice called out.

' _Gaijin, gaijin, dozo, dozo.'_

They both looked over and blinked in surprise at a smiling elderly lady beckoning to them from the wide doorway of her restaurant. Looking closer, they realized that there were no tables behind her, or any customers. Instead, a pretty young Japanese woman dressed in a school girl outfit, complete with long pigtails and a Hello Kitty stuffed doll was seated on a raised platform, as though she was on display. A small staircase leading up to the second floor was next to her.

' _Gaijin, gaijin…'_ the woman waved again, gesturing to the model behind her and smiling.

"Is this…" Mary began, staring at both women. The model smiled, then bit her finger coquettishly, her eyes moving from Mary to Matthew and back.

"It's a brothel," he stated slowly in realization.

The elderly woman soon gave up on them when a Japanese businessman in an expensive suit came over to her establishment. They bowed respectfully to each other, and after some hushed negotiations, went inside. The model left her perch and bowed to the client before they both disappeared upstairs.

"Let's go," Matthew said, taking her arm and leading her away.

They glanced around and soon discovered similar businesses all along the street, with women dressed as cartoon and video game characters, or just wearing revealing outfits, sitting patiently on display as their older handlers did all the luring and negotiating.

"It seems that we've found the red light district of Osaka," he muttered, taking out his phone. "I'll find us the way out."

Mary looked around as Matthew played with his phone. She observed the different techniques used by the older women to entice customers, the way that the models – or, prostitutes, she supposed – would never blatantly expose themselves, but instead use smiles and gestures to tease and seduce. The area itself was quite clean and well-lit, even the storefronts themselves more resembled quaintly decorated living rooms than dens of ill-repute.

Years ago, she had to research Japanese geisha for a story arc on _Paladin_. She found it fascinating how these women were trained to not only entertain, but in the art of conversation, as well. They weren't prostitutes, as sex was never a part of their services. They could become mistresses and consorts, but only by their own free will, rather than for payment. When they visited Kyoto, she had Matthew take her to the geisha district. The area was rather ordinary, cheapened by tourists crawling everywhere looking to take photos, but the geisha themselves were beautiful. Their elegant and colourful kimonos, elaborate headdresses and authentic white makeup all created the same striking appearance from a long ago era. Her research, and the way they were portrayed in the show, did not do them justice.

Looking at the red light district now, Mary was intrigued by the two different roles – courtesan and prostitute. Both used sexuality to manipulate men – the geisha by being enticing and alluring, the prostitute by being seductive and explicit. It was startling that they were both accepted parts of society here, almost coexisting.

"This way," Matthew called, taking her hand and leading her down the street. "There are actually some legitimate restaurants here that are apparently quite good. I think I'll have to pass, though."

She laughed and followed him through the streets and back to their waiting car.

 **Home of Lady Edith Pelham and Lord Bertie Pelham, Kensington, London, England, October 5, 2018**

 _'Talk about couples goals! Here's some video shot by a fan in Osaka, Japan. Yes, that is Oscar- winner Matthew Crawley serenading his new wife, the actress, Lady Mary Crawley. The popular couple are in Japan for their honeymoon and stopped into this tiny bar for drinks and to sing a few tunes. Matthew crooned a few songs to his lady love, including 'Rest of my Life' by Brian McKnight. All together now, aww…'_

Edith smirked and shook her head at the television.

"They seem to be having a fun time," Bertie observed.

"That's my sister – the fun one," she joked.

"I thought that Sybil was the fun one?" he asked.

"She is, or at least, she was until the baby came. Now she's alternately the 'sleep-deprived one', the 'surly one' and the 'elated to just make it through the day one'," she laughed.

He chuckled and put his arm around her shoulders.

She snuggled against him, bringing her feet up and tucking them underneath her as they relaxed on the sofa.

"And what about you?" he asked. "Which Crawley sister are you, my dear?"

She smiled and kissed him softly. "Lately, I've been the 'eager to get pregnant one'."

He grinned and kissed her back. "That's my very favourite."

"You don't say? Well, Lord Hexham," she teased. "Perhaps you can do your part to assist?"

He reached over and caressed her face. "It would be my pleasure, Lady Hexham."

They both laughed as he kissed her and eased her on to her back.

 **Japanese Suite, The Ritz-Carlton Osaka, Osaka, Japan, October 6, 2018**

"Say it," Matthew growled, leaning down and kissing Mary hard, his tongue jabbing into her mouth.

She groaned in response, her legs locked around his driving hips, her arms clutching his back.

He broke the kiss and nuzzled her neck, a string of curses flying from her open mouth.

"Fuck! Fuck! Oh God, Matthew, it's so good," she babbled clinging to him as he increased his pace yet again.

"Say it," he hissed, his breath hot in her ear. He balanced his weight on his hands, braced on either side of her chest. "Say it."

"I love you," she gasped, her pulse racing as she neared her peak. "I love you. I love you. Don't stop. Don't stop."

She cried out as he sent her over, her body shaking as she hung on to him. He kissed her face and neck, slowing his thrusts to let her ride out her pleasure and catch her breath. Watching her carefully, he waited for her to take in air, finally smiling when she opened her eyes and arched her eyebrow at him.

"Is that all you've got?" she rasped, her voice still shaking.

He laughed darkly. "Just making sure you're all right, that's all."

She arched her eyebrow. "It's going to take more than that to wear me out."

He gave her a long, deep thrust, drawing a moan from her lips. "You sure about that?" he taunted her.

She swallowed and nodded. "Give it to me."

He grinned and kissed her, resuming his thrusts. She moaned into his mouth, shutting her eyes as he moved faster. Quickly giving up on matching his speed, she squeezed around him, her hand moving up and tangling in his hair as his mouth moved to her neck. She turned her head and called his name over and over as his rhythm grew more frantic. Finally, he pushed as deep as he could and let go, their voices blending together in bliss.

* * *

"I have a question for you," she announced, taking a sip from her bottle of water and coming back to bed.

"Which is?" he asked, taking the bottle from her and having a sip.

"It's about your movie. You wrote the script, but it was based on a story you'd written before," she stated.

"A concept that I'd imagined before, yes," he nodded, handing her back the bottle.

"And what was that?" she asked, putting the bottle on the nightstand and snuggling against him. "How did it come about?"

"Well, it was sort of an alternate reality of my life, in a way," he explained, putting his arm around her. "A bit of a 'what if' scenario. What if our fathers didn't get along? What if they despised each other? How would that affect our relationship? Once I established the characters and the overall theme, I played around with the story a bit and made it more dramatic. So, instead of just being rivals, the fathers were now mortal enemies that ended up killing each other, and so on."

"Did you ever revisit the concept? I mean, did you work on it before deciding to write your script?" she asked.

"No," he shook his head. "It was just an idea in my head and I didn't really have the motivation to work on it until the possibility of writing and directing my own movie became actually plausible."

"I see," she nodded, relaxing against his chest.

"Why do you ask?" he questioned.

"Just curious," she replied lightly. She looked up and found his eyes, giving him a sweet smile. "Probing the mind of the accomplished writer, actor and director, that's all."

"You're mocking me," he smiled.

"Not at all," she shook her head, pausing for a moment before continuing. "The truth is, darling, I think your film is brilliant. I thought that you and Rooney were wonderful together, the pacing was tight and brisk, the scenes weren't indulgent or overdone. It was a great effort for a seasoned director, let alone a novice."

He blinked in surprise and grinned. "High praise, indeed. Thank you. There's a lot of you in the movie. The story is still about you in a way."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Josephine. I imagine the studio will want you to change the character's name straight away."

He laughed. "It wasn't mentioned in the list that Alex sent over. We'll see. I rather like the name."

She huffed and smiled at him. "It seems I am constantly discovering that you have new talents that I was previously unaware of."

"Hardly," he snorted.

"What you've managed to do in such a short time is remarkable," she noted.

"I don't think of it that way. It's just work, that's all. Some of those interviews that I told you about that I did in Toronto during filming – they kept asking me all these questions to find out where I got my inspiration from. They wanted to know what books I was reading, what my influences were, even what my fashion knowledge was. It was all so strange, as if they were asking me questions about someone who wasn't me."

"I told you already. You're the hot one now, the shiny new thing, the Oscar winner. They want to know what you're all about, to find out what the big deal is," she remarked.

"They're in for a big disappointment," he replied. "There really isn't anything special or magical about me, or what I do. I just work, that's it. If I don't know something for a role or a job, as is often the case, I study and find out all I can and try and do my best with it. People expect some legendary tale of how I was inspired to get into acting, and how reading a certain author, or watching a certain actor stirred something inside me to aspire to be great. It didn't happen that way, and it still doesn't."

She smirked and tapped her finger on his nose. "No, you just did everything to get the girl."

He chuckled and raised his head to kiss her. Their fingers intertwined and he held up her wedding and engagement rings between them. "It seems as though I have."

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers tenderly before drawing them back down to his side. "Do you know what's odd? We still haven't really discussed certain details that most married couples do – where we're going to live, for example."

"You find that odd?" he asked.

"It is somewhat out of character for a man of your meticulous nature," she smiled.

"That's not entirely true," he said. "Leaving things to chance, or avoiding addressing an issue would be against my nature, but when a matter is no longer in question, I don't bother dwelling on it."

"How is the matter of where we will live no longer in question?" she asked. "At the moment we have a rented apartment in Paris, your family condo in Toronto, and the majority of our worldly possessions are in storage in London and at Downton."

He smiled. "Home is wherever you are, my darling. Unless you're saying that your parents are going to throw out your things imminently, we really don't have anything to decide. After Bora Bora, we'll go back to Paris, and come December, we'll be back in London and at Downton over the holidays. There's no need to worry."

She smiled, impressed at how easy he made it sound. "You have thought this through, haven't you?"

"At some point, we will need an actual home of our own. For now, though, we're very lucky to be in a position where we can see where life takes us," he nodded.

"Gracious me, I've married a hipster," she shook her head.

"Easy, there," he countered, tickling her lightly.

She laughed and settled back down against him. They had chosen this suite because of the decidedly Japanese design in comparison to the rest of the hotel. The floor was covered with tatami mats, there were decorative scrolls on the walls, and the bed was a thick futon mattress placed on the floor. Since arriving in Osaka, they had made frequent use of the deep Japanese-style bathtub as well.

"I'm going to miss this place," she sighed. "Who knows when we'll be back?"

"I could always try and find a project here. Maybe we could be cast in the next _Godzilla_ sequel?" he suggested.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't want to come back here that badly."

He chuckled and massaged her back.

"You know, darling, Japan has their own version of the kama sutra," she stated, looking at him mischievously.

"I wasn't aware of that, though I'm not surprised," he smiled, his eyes brightening in anticipation.

"Yes, it's comprised of 48 positions in total. They aren't particularly unique, though there are some that seemed interesting," she teased.

"You've looked into this, have you?" he enquired, smiling at her in amusement.

"Well, I wanted to ensure you had a thorough cultural experience," she drawled, kissing his chest and moving on top of him.

"It would be rather ignorant for us to come all this way and not sample all there is on offer," he concurred, kissing her softly when she reached his mouth.

"I agree," she nodded between kisses.

"Did you have a particular preference as to which one you wanted to try first?" he asked, his arousal stirring beneath her.

"I do," she nodded, smiling wickedly. "It's a bit complicated, but I'll walk you through it."

* * *

 **Song Credit:**

 **The Rest of My Life -** Brian McKnight, (2006), Warner Bros.


	12. Chapter 12

**Previously:**

 **Japanese Suite, The Ritz-Carlton Osaka, Osaka, Japan, October 6, 2018**

"You know, darling, Japan has their own version of the kama sutra," she stated, looking at him mischievously.

"I wasn't aware of that, though I'm not surprised," he smiled, his eyes brightening in anticipation.

"Yes, it's comprised of 48 positions in total. They aren't particularly unique, though there are some that seemed interesting," she teased.

"You've looked into this, have you?" he enquired, smiling at her in amusement.

"Well, I wanted to ensure you had a thorough cultural experience," she drawled, kissing his chest and moving on top of him.

"It would be rather ignorant for us to come all this way and not sample all there is on offer," he concurred, kissing her softly when she reached his mouth.

"I agree," she nodded between kisses.

"Did you have a particular preference as to which one you wanted to try first?" he asked, his arousal stirring beneath her.

"I do," she nodded, smiling wickedly. "It's a bit complicated, but I'll walk you through it."

 **Chapter 12:**

 **Poerava Overwater Bungalow Suite, Four Seasons Bora Bora, Bora Bora, French Polynesia, October 11, 2018**

Mary opened her eyes, the warm tropical breeze coming in through the open doors waking her up. She smiled and snuggled against the soft pillow, staring out to the deep blue waters of the South Pacific, and the light blue sky above, brilliant sunshine bathing the scene in light.

A slow smile crept across her lips as she heard the splashing of water just before Matthew emerged, climbing up the ladder to the deck, the glistening water running down his naked body. He stood up and wiped his eyes before grabbing a towel and drying himself off. She enjoyed the show he was giving her just before he turned and came inside, a curious smile on his face.

"What?" he asked, tying the towel around his waist and coming over to her side of the bed. "You have a rather playful smile on your lovely face."

"Nothing," she shrugged. "Just savouring the sight of my husband rising naked from the sea like some kind of Greek God."

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her lightly. "Well, what's the point of having a private refuge if we don't take advantage?"

She reached up and caressed his shoulders, kissing him again. "I thought we were already doing that by being loud and uninhibited?"

He smirked and sat down beside her. "Well, actually, seeing how sound carries across water, more people have heard of what we've been up to here than you think."

She smiled and ran her hand up and down his back. "So you don't care if photos of you and your pale white bottom end up all over the Internet?"

"It's not that pale," he retorted. "Besides, no one knows we're here. No one's looking for us."

She smiled and shook her head at his easy manner. The resort seemed busy, but they hadn't spent much time away from their suite. Their bungalow was located at the end of a long pier, and the other units nearby had been deliberately kept unoccupied to give them more privacy. In addition to living right over the ocean, their suite had a pool located on the deck, meaning they had very little reason to venture out to use any of the resort's public amenities. They had delicious meals overlooking the sea, took a private tour of the island by powerboat, and went swimming constantly. The resort had a private lagoon teeming with marine life, and they had gone snorkelling together, exploring the vibrant world below. In a typical Matthew moment, they even planted a piece of coral on the submerged reef with their names attached to it.

Most days were spent in lazy peace, getting back to casual activities that they never had time for – reading, listening to music, singing, even board games. She had trounced him quite thoroughly in both backgammon and checkers. He'd gotten her back in strip poker, though his enthusiasm to be naked as well somewhat defeated the purpose of the game.

It was the perfect ending to a magical honeymoon.

"Now, are you going to stay in bed, or are you getting up?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"Mmm, I suppose it depends on what reason I have to rise at this precise moment?" she arched her eyebrow at him. "I'm not particularly hungry. I could always just read in bed."

"Well, you can join me in the shower. I was going to do a bit of work afterwards," he stated.

She frowned. "No, thank you. I have no desire to watch you hunched over your laptop agonising over what changes the studio wants you to make to your film."

He scoffed. "I don't hunch over. I'm only going to spend about an hour or so. Come on. Get up."

"You go ahead, darling. I'm quite comfortable," she replied.

"I'll make it worth your while," he teased, eyeing her playfully.

"Are you quite sure that you will? It seems you're dealing with a shrinkage problem," she laughed.

He glared at her. "That will be easily taken care of, so long as you're up to the task."

She sat up and kissed him, opening his towel and reaching down to take hold of him.

"Very well," she whispered against his lips. "I suppose it is part of my wifely duties to take such matters into my own hands."

He laughed ruefully and got up, throwing the duvet off and scooping her naked body out of bed.

"Mmm, I love it when my man shows some initiative," she drawled, holding on to him and deepening their kiss as he carried her to the bathroom.

* * *

They ended up back in bed anyway.

After showering and drying off, Matthew left Mary to get ready in the bathroom and went and ordered room service. Neither of them were particularly hungry, so he had a fruit tray and two healthy smoothies brought out to the deck. She emerged after the food arrived wearing bikini bottoms and a loose fitting buttoned shirt. They fed each other the fruit while admiring the stunning view. When the smoothies were done, she innocently asked him to put sunscreen on her legs and back. He barely composed himself long enough to do her legs. When he took off her shirt to do her back, his hands inevitably wandered around to her breasts and she turned her head to kiss him.

They became indisposed for the next hour. At least they had the good sense to head back inside this time, rather than having _al fresco_ sex on the deck again.

Still smiling at the thought, he stared at his laptop monitor, idly perusing the list of changes that Alex sent him last week from Sony. The studio wanted him to make a few tweaks to his film, nothing overly egregious, but it took him a while to get his head around having to change his film at all. As reasonable and expected as the studio's input was, he still was fiercely protective of his work. He had isolated himself in that editing suite in Paris for weeks to finish the cut of his movie, and to be told to go back and go over it again was maddening. He couldn't work on it here, but he still was going over the footage and taking notes on things he could tweak or different angles he could use. Thankfully, he had shot enough different takes of all the scenes to be able to play around with the material.

His eyes wandered across the deck to where Mary was lying down on a lounge chair, dark sunglasses on, and a large hat covering her head. She actually hated tanning as she didn't want to freckle or get too much colour. She was known for her alabaster skin, and that suited the characters she played, particularly the more recent ones in Paul Chaput's films. He watched her for several moments as she dozed, a smile curling his lips. These past three weeks had been something out of a dream. He had her undivided attention the entire time. He checked his messages and emails almost more than she did, their agreed upon hour each day spent calling and texting back to Alex and Anna and dealing with business barely noticeable. There was always a delusion that came with being on vacation, of course, the idea that life could be so idyllic and stress-free, when it truly was anything but. Still, though, the first month of their marriage was shaping up to be a roaring success.

His gaze wandered down her body. She had gone topless most of their time at the bungalow, presumably to minimize tan lines, but he liked to think she did it for his benefit. They had worked out together each day, in hotel gyms in Japan, and now with swimming and yoga here. Her flat stomach and toned legs were a testament to that dedication.

When they returned to Paris, she would dive straight into promoting _Orlena_ ahead of the November premiere. He would get to editing his movie for Sony. Another decision awaited him, though.

Following its Toronto debut, _The Disciple_ had grossed $140 million worldwide, and counting, in its first month of release. Given the modest production budget, it was a bona fide hit, and one of Rooney's more successful films of late. While Matthew took no credit for _Black Panther_ , the fact remained that he was in it, and that film had cleaned up at the box office earlier this year to the tune of over $700 million worldwide. Adding _Shattered_ 's takings from last year, and technically his recent movies had brought in over $1 billion in total. It was staggering to think about.

This all eased his mind when contemplating the release of _10 Days_. Since he had made Sony such a handsome profit on two films already, if his directorial debut bombed, it wouldn't be a complete disaster. Still, he cringed at the idea of costing a studio millions of dollars with no return, and so the pressure remained.

As he looked at Mary, he wondered what his next project would be. Directing had been exhilarating, but he didn't know if he was ready to do it again. Besides, he didn't have an idea for a story, let alone a script. The wise choice would be to accept one of the films from the last batch that Joe had sent him. Go back to being a normal actor.

Where would that take him, though? None of the projects sent to him were filming in France. Would Mary come with him to whatever location he was filming at? He had heard of couples in the industry who alternated their work schedules so they would never be apart for overly long. That seemed smart to him, and he had done exactly that for her, spending the past year in France. Would Mary do the same now for him? What was her next move? What did she want to do come January?

He looked away and reached for his Coke, taking a long sip as he stared out to the ocean.

* * *

Mary took a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator and took a drink, sighing happily. Though the weather here was glorious, she didn't like to stay out in the heat for too long. It was wonderful to just relax indoors reading or binge watching a TV show that she was behind on. She did like to keep up on what was going on in the world, even when they were on vacation, so she grabbed her tablet and headed over to the living room sofa.

The bungalow had a view to the deck and ocean from every room, it seemed, and she looked out there from her comfortable seat now. Matthew's fit back and blond hair filled a corner of her vision. He was typing away on his laptop, making some notes on his film.

Even after all of his success, Matthew still had the focus and determination of years ago when he was unknown and struggling. He was literally a multi-millionaire now, but you wouldn't know it. All his best clothes were gifts from Armani, or from her, and he still favoured comfort over fashion. His only jewellery was his wedding ring, the cufflinks and tie pin she had made for him, and a Rolex watch that he never wore, a gift from Sony. She couldn't imagine Henry, or many of the other more established actors that she knew and had worked with over the years, behaving similarly.

But then, none of them had won an Oscar, either.

She looked away and down at her tablet, swiping her finger across the screen to her Netflix app. Yes, Matthew had won acclaim and reward through hard work, determination, and more importantly, a refusal to be judged or affected by the opinions of others. How many times had Henry tried to belittle him and his career? How many times had he gone to auditions, only to be turned down without even a callback? Yet, here he was, resolute, indomitable, fearless.

She smiled and opened up the last episode of the show she started to watch yesterday. Perhaps it was time for her to care less about what others thought of her as well in her decision-making. Perhaps it was time for her to go after what she wanted, and not care about how things looked to the outside world.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, October 12, 2018**

Alex kissed his wife softly on the lips before moving to her jaw and down to her neck. He nuzzled the spot below her ear, breathing in her perfume and kissing her shoulder.

"Alex," Anna sighed, reaching up above her head and taking hold of the headboard. "Mmm."

He chuckled as he moved lower, playing his fingers across her breast before he captured it with his mouth.

"Alex!" she moaned, arching her back towards his touch.

"I love you, Anna," he breathed, kissing his way back up to her mouth. "I love you."

"Then quit fucking teasing me!" she gasped, kissing him back ardently. "God, babes, come on, I want it!"

He grinned and reached down to lift her leg. She hooked it around his hip, leaving herself open to him.

"You want this?" he asked thickly, shifting his hips and pushing inside of her.

She cried out in pleasure as he filled her. "Yes! Fuck! Yes!"

"Anna," he growled, moving faster.

She matched the rhythm of his hips with her own, moaning in response to his every deep plunge. She was not going to last very long. She hadn't been these past few days, but she didn't care. The sooner he drove her to bliss, the sooner he could do it again.

She could feel him smiling against her heated skin, the arrogant man so confident in his own prowess. It was an annoying trait to be sure, but she couldn't be annoyed with him now. It felt too good to just give in to the rapture of his determined skill, knowing that it was her he was loving, her he wanted to please. For once, she didn't worry about whether she was good enough for him, whether she deserved him, whether he was better off with someone else. In these most private and intimate of moments, he was hers, all hers, and she revelled in it.

"Alex, I'm close! I'm so close!" she cried, her hands letting go of the headboard and grabbing hold of his shoulders.

"I want to hear you," he snarled, kissing her neck. "I want to hear you, love."

"Alex! Oh fuck!" she shouted, clutching on to him as she flew over the brink, his hips easing up only slightly as she shook through her release.

"That's one," he stated smugly, kissing her neck while she gasped for air.

"Go on and have another go," she breathed, her giggle turning into a satisfied groan when he resumed his pace.

* * *

She smirked when she came back to bed. He was sitting up, waiting for her, an anxious look on his face.

"Everything all right?" he asked quietly.

She slipped beneath the covers and kissed him before snuggling into his chest. "Everything is wonderful."

He put his arms around her and held her close, kissing the top of her head before lying back against the pillow.

"So what do you prefer? Mum? Mummy? Mom? Ma?" he asked.

She laughed and massaged his stomach. "You know, I hadn't really thought about it. I always use Mum, but that's more of a British thing. You use Mommy, don't you?"

"That's more of an Asian thing," he remarked. "I did have a phase where I called her Ma. She didn't like it."

She laughed knowingly.

"You happy, love?" he asked.

She raised her head and smiled at him. "I don't know if I've ever been happier."

He grinned. "Good. There's no need to be nervous."

"Oh, I'm still nervous," she admitted, laughing wryly. "But I promised you that I'd be optimistic, and positive, and so I am. It's still so very early, not even two weeks, but you and Dr. Ryder are both right. We're very lucky that I'm pregnant again, so I'm trying not to think about anything else."

"I'm thinking about what an incredible mother you're going to be," he replied. "I sort of hope we have a girl. I think that would be pretty cute to have a mini-Anna running around here."

"God help us," she rolled her eyes. "I wasn't the easiest of children, though perhaps that would still be better than a mini-you."

"Hey! I was the perfect baby, I'll have you know," he protested.

"What about that time that you were dancing on the glass coffee table and fell through it?" she questioned.

"I was four. I wasn't a baby anymore," he huffed. "I was a perfect baby. I was a horrible toddler. That's different."

"Great. So the first two years will be lovely and it'll all go to shit after that," she teased.

"I think there will be plenty of shit right from the beginning, love," he joked.

She slapped his chest and laid back down to go to sleep. "Idiot."

He closed his eyes and held her, a smile still on his face as he drifted off.

 **Darjeeling Room, Mandarin Oriental Hotel, Paris, France, October 23, 2018**

 _'How is married life treating you so far?'_

 _'Has Matthew seen the movie yet?'_

 _'That video from the karaoke bar in Japan was so cute! Does Matthew sing to you often? Is that sort of your thing?'_

 _'It must be so helpful when your husband can relate to what you're going through.'_

 _'Did you read lines with Matthew in preparing for this role?'_

 _'Were you able to draw upon any personal experience – playing this Englishwoman living in France and having multiple relationships?'_

 _'Is it a relief to play a character so different from Empress Jade?'_

 _'What was it like on set? Did Paul speak to you in French, or English?'_

 _'Did you and Aline get drunk before your love scene? How did that work?'_

 _'This is your second film here in France. What are your plans for the future?'_

"Well, I am most excited about _Orlena_. It's a wonderful story that I think many women can relate to, and we're looking forward to the premiere next month for the public to see it," Mary smiled politely. "I've also already finished my third film for Paul. It's called _Duplicity_ and will be out next year, and we can talk all about it then. It's quite clear, though, that I'm here and that I love working in France."

The reporter nodded and smiled through Mary's answer. The studio rep came over and announced that the interview was over, and Mary and Aline smiled and shook hands with the reporter before she departed.

"You've got twenty minutes," the studio rep confirmed.

"God, she had a nerve," Mary complained, taking her bottle of water from Anna. "What are my plans? What does that have to do with anything?"

Aline smiled and sipped her water. "She didn't mean to be rude. It is just that the press is very protective of French films and the industry here in France. They do not like when Americans and the English come here and take all of our best parts."

"It isn't as though it's a one-off," Mary replied. "I've made three films with Paul. Surely, that must count for something? I'm making an effort to be part of the business here, rather than coming and going."

"Yes, but to them, it means you are taking away a part from a French actress," Aline shrugged.

"Why would he cast a French actress to play an Englishwoman? Or, is it that they would prefer that the characters all be French?" Mary asked bitterly.

"Maybe," Aline nodded. "Do not worry. When the movie debuts, they will have no choice but to write something positive and glowing."

Mary rolled her eyes and turned to Anna.

"There did seem to be a lot of questions about Matthew," Anna noted.

"I expected them, although maybe not so many," Mary shrugged. "We're newlyweds. This is my first press tour since the wedding. People will ask, even off-the-record. It is annoying, but not surprising."

"Still, though, I've barely noticed a handful of questions about the actual movie throughout the day," Anna remarked.

"That's not true. Didn't you catch all the times they asked me what it was like to kiss Aline? That's part of the movie," Mary answered ruefully.

Aline smiled and kept to herself.

"Anyway, publicity is important, even crucial. It's a necessary trial that we all must endure for the greater good," Mary commented. "It'll all be worth it once the film is released."

"Speaking of movie premieres, how's Matthew's coming?" Anna asked.

"At this rate, he won't have a finished cut until well into next year," Mary sighed. "He's been at that editing suite every day since we got back, constantly tinkering and tweaking before deciding he liked it better the first time around. He's determined to make this work, but I think he might be obsessing over every imperfection – both real and imagined."

"That's what Alex says," Anna agreed. "I suppose it comes with creating something from the beginning. He feels attached to it beyond just as an actor."

"Quite right," Mary nodded. "Anyway, it's fine. He's keeping busy, which helps since I'll barely be around with all these promotional obligations to deal with ahead of November 1. Do we know who's going to be on _On n'est pas couch_ _é_ with me yet?"

"A cartoonist, a and there's a rap group performing as well," Anna nodded, checking her tablet quickly. "You're on _Quotidien_ with Paul."

"That should be interesting. I wonder if I'll be allowed to speak very much," Mary replied, shaking her head.

"Ready?" the studio representative called.

Mary took one last sip of water and handed the bottle back to Anna. Putting on her professional smile once more, she checked with Aline for a second before nodding for the next journalist to be sent in.

 **Audi'Art Lab, Quartier San Ambroise, 11e arrondissement, Paris, France, October 29, 2018**

"So with the new, shorter intro, what's your running time at?" Alex asked, looking at the bank of monitors in front of Matthew.

"I'm three minutes over," Matthew replied, frowning at the screens as he fast forwarded through the latest cut of his film.

"So one less scene and you're done," Alex noted.

Matthew laughed wryly. "I wouldn't say that. Take one scene out and it will have an impact everywhere else, which means I'll need to review everything again to make sure it still works. Anything that could be just deleted from the cut without effect shouldn't have been in to begin with."

Alex smirked and nodded. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed several times and swallowed.

"What is it about French baguettes?" Alex asked. "No matter what you call it, this is just a ham and cheese sandwich, but for some reason, put it on a baguette, and now it's stupid good."

"Basically, it's the flour," Matthew replied, not turning around. "The commercial stuff you find in most bakeries back in Canada and the U.S. are much worse."

"Hmm," Alex replied.

"Baguettes are nice, but they're still just white bread. I prefer a proper sourdough," Matthew added.

"Be careful you don't say that out loud around here," Alex joked.

Matthew chuckled and took another bite of his sandwich.

"What about this one here?" Alex asked, nodding towards the screen. "What's so crucial about this scene?"

Matthew paused the playback and leaned back in his chair. The scene that Alex was wondering about was a scene put in the final Act of the film, where Matthew's character, David, finds out that he and Josephine are from rival families. Upon learning the news, David went in search of Josephine, only to run into her two brothers, who forbid him from seeing her, leading to a shoving match before she came out and ordered them all to stand down.

"What do you mean? It's the beginning of the main conflict in the film," Matthew frowned at his best friend.

"Yeah, but you can cut a decent amount of it and just use the end where Rooney stops the macho contest and goes off with you," Alex noted.

"No, the build-up to the altercation is important because the exchange with the brothers helps establish that David truly loves her, despite this new revelation about their families. Their time together wasn't just a fling to him, and he's willing to suffer their wrath to be with her," Matthew explained.

"Yeah, but you could just cut from the time he finds out the truth to the scene where he goes to see her and they have their talk. The in-between part is dramatic, but the talk is far more important, right?" Alex asked.

Matthew shook his head. He stared at the monitor for a moment before continuing. "It's like this – the love David has for Josephine is supposed to be greater than even a blood feud between their fathers. It's cliché if her family offers him money to go away, or tries to bribe him in any fashion. That's been done to death in so many different stories that I didn't want to go there. The confrontation with the brothers is aggressive, but he's not coming in swinging his fists, or whatever. He's willing to risk everything to find out if she loves him the way he loves her."

Alex nodded slowly. "I see that, sort of."

Matthew sighed and pointed at the screen. "In this scene, the audience doesn't actually know how Josephine feels in light of the new revelation about their past. Her bond with her family is strong, so there's a strong possibility she'll turn on him. This scene, without her in it, is crucial in establishing David's state of mind. He loves her enough to go to her, against his own family's wishes, and risk being rejected by her in the end."

"One of those 'better to have loved and lost' type of deals?" Alex suggested.

Matthew smiled. "Exactly. Their talk is important, yes, but words are so easy to distrust. His actions show how he truly feels, and hopefully, the audience can sense that without the dialogue. He doesn't care about her family, her history, even if she chooses another man instead of him because of his bloodline. He wants to hear it from her, though, and showing his determination is crucial."

Alex nodded. "Well, you could always just leave it as is and tell the studio that another three minutes isn't anything to worry over."

"No, no, I can't do that," Matthew grumbled. "I don't want to be difficult."

"Well, keep looking, then," Alex shrugged.

"Right," Matthew muttered, taking another bite of his sandwich.

 **Cinéma Gaumont Opéra, 9e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 1, 2018**

When Mary emerged from the limo, the screams were shockingly loud. What was more shocking was that they were screaming her name, not Paul's or any of the French cast. She grinned and waved, surprised at the large turnout. Not only were there more fans lining the street on either side of the theatre entrance, but there were more paparazzi, more reporters, more everything. The slightly chilly November night had not dissuaded anyone from coming out. There were easily ten times the numbers from _The Muse_ premiere, maybe even more.

"Where do you suppose they all came from?" Anna asked, taking in the scene.

"I couldn't tell you, but isn't it all lovely?" Mary smiled, moving over to the designated spot to pose for photos.

Anna marveled at all the attention for a few more moments. It still wasn't on the same level as a North American debut, but it was still impressive. She quickly went over to speak to one of the staff members to coordinate Mary's photos and interviews. Alex and Matthew were already inside, but they would have to wait. This was a rare opportunity for Mary to have the full spotlight on her, since she was so obviously the star of the movie. Anna was determined to help her take full advantage.

Aline arrived shortly afterward, and Jimmy and the others after her. They all posed for photos as a group with Paul, before further shots of Paul and Mary, Mary and Jimmy, and Mary, Jimmy, Aline, and Daniel, the actor who played Orlena's older lover. The interviews with French media came next. Mary laughed and teased and even kissed Aline on the cheek in front of the cameras. They were running late with all the autographs and photo ops, but she didn't mind. For the first time she felt as though France was embracing her, and she was loving every second of it.

* * *

 _'I've wanted to touch you like this for so long.'_

 _'I've wanted you to touch me like this, and even more.'_

Matthew stared at the wide theatre screen, transfixed as he watched Aline undo Mary's bra and cast is aside. His wife's bare back was exposed to the camera, and Aline kissed her, her hands moving slowly down to caress Mary's bottom through her silk panties. The two women fell to the bed, still kissing each other as they rolled over, stopping with Mary on top.

The camera shot moved to the side to capture the two topless women kissing, their hands roaming each other's bodies. Zooming in, Aline and Mary's faces filled the screen, kissing heatedly. They turned over once more and Aline kissed Mary's cheek and neck, moving down and out of the frame, leaving only Mary's face, her eyes closed, her mouth open, moaning in pleasure as the shot faded to black.

The next scene picked up with Mary and Aline dressing the next morning, smiling, laughing and kissing as they talked. Matthew didn't hear much of the dialogue. His mind was still stuck on the love scene. Mary had told him she was only going to have a chaste kiss with Aline. When had the scene changed? Obviously it was part of Paul's penchant to revise the script on-the-fly during production, but why had she never mentioned it? There was nothing particularly disturbing to him about the scene. It was quite titillating, to be sure, the contrast between Mary and Aline was stark – one woman taller than the other, one white, the other black, one English, the other French. He wasn't entirely sure if it added anything to the narrative, but it did reinforce the idea of Orlena discovering a new side of herself with Ludivine, and left no doubt that they were lovers.

He glanced over at Mary beside him.

She was smiling widely, her complete attention focused on watching her movie.

 **Le Queen Nightclub, Champs-Élysées, Paris, France, November 1, 2018**

Normally, movie premiere after-parties were not like awards show after-parties, or even wrap parties. While everyone involved with the film made an appearance and posed for photos, they all generally escaped shortly after arrival, leaving studio executives and friends of friends to enjoy the open bar and free hors d'oeuvres.

Tonight, no one was leaving early.

With a handful of positive reviews from media who had seen the film in advance, and the buzz of a well-attended debut, _Orlena_ was shaping up to be Mary's most successful movie since _Shattered_. After making her entrance and taking the requisite photos with Paul and the cast again, she pulled Matthew on to the dance floor and hadn't let go of him since.

"If they're loving _Orlena_ so much, imagine what they'll think of _Duplicity_?" he teased, kissing her neck quickly as he held her from behind, his hands on her hips.

She laughed and grinded against him to the beat of the music, glancing at him over her shoulder and smiling playfully.

* * *

Anna sipped her sparkling water and watched the scene around her. Truly, she was hoping that the night would end soon. The adrenaline rush of the premiere was wearing off and she was feeling rather tired. As with her first pregnancy, her morning sickness hadn't been too bad at all so far, but she was finding that she was wearing down later in the evenings. After Mary returned from her honeymoon, the promotion schedule had been decent. They were finished with her appearances by dinner on most evenings, which gave Anna the time to go home and rest.

"Why aren't you dancing?" Edna asked, coming over and hugging her.

"I'm worn out," Anna admitted, smiling sheepishly. "I sent Alex to go get us some food just so I could take a break."

Edna laughed and nodded in understanding. "Well, you'll be able to slip away soon enough. The party's almost over, or at least all the important people will be leaving."

"I don't know. Mary looks like she could dance until dawn," Anna shrugged, glancing over at Mary and Matthew dancing close together.

"Probably, but you're off the hook. Paul's going to another party and she'll probably go with him," Edna remarked.

Anna looked at her curiously. "Oh? One of those private parties with his inner circle?"

Edna smiled and nodded. "The ones that staff aren't invited to. So, you're good to go home soon enough."

Anna smiled politely and nodded. "That's great."

"Oh! I have to show you where we ended up booking for our trip! It's amazing!" Edna exclaimed, taking out her phone.

Anna watched patiently as her friend showed her photos of the resort she was going to in December. As Edna gushed about the beautiful beach and crystal waters, Anna's thoughts remained on this private party that Mary was supposedly going to, wondering why the guest list was kept so limited.

* * *

 _"Mathieu._ "

Matthew turned around and nodded as Paul and two other men came up to him.

"Paul, congratulations," Matthew said in French. "The response was impressive tonight."

"It was, yes," Paul smiled. "And what did you think of the movie? Mary was sensational, yes?"

"She was," Matthew nodded, glancing at the two other men briefly.

"Oh, I am sorry. Mathieu, this is Jean-Paul and Xavier. Jean-Paul is one of our backers. Xavier is the Minister for Culture," Paul introduced him, nodding towards the two men.

Matthew nodded to each man in turn. "Minister, you must be pleased with how this evening has gone?"

"I am always pleased to see a French film succeed and be embraced by our people, yes," Xavier smiled and nodded. "And my congratulations to you and your wife. She is, as Paul says, sensational."

"Thank you," Matthew replied. "I think I'll go and look for her. Good evening, gentlemen."

They all nodded and watched as Matthew left.

"Now you've met Mary's husband," Jean-Paul noted, smiling at Xavier. "Is he as you expected?"

"Yes," Xavier nodded. "Yes, he is. Thank you for making the introductions."

"A pleasure, Minister," Paul replied. "Come, let's have some drinks."

* * *

"Have you been avoiding me?" Mary asked, coming up to Jean-Paul and kissing him on both cheeks.

"No, never," he smiled in return. "It's your night. I want you to enjoy it."

"It's your night as well," she noted. "You must be pleased that you're going to receive a handsome return on your investment. It also bodes well for _Duplicity_ , doesn't it?"

"It does, though I'm quite confident that _Duplicity_ will do well. Who wouldn't want to see two men fight over you?" he smirked.

She laughed and nodded. "Here's hoping."

He chuckled with her before leaning in to speak softly in her ear.

"There is another party later, for our circle," he advised. "I would be pleased if you joined us."

She nodded. "Of course."

"The same rules as before – no assistants, no partners – we keep it small," he continued.

She smiled in understanding. "Understood."

"Very good," he nodded, drawing back to find her eyes. "I must share a secret with you, and ask you a great favour. I have been in talks with Félix and Xavier for weeks now. They are close to approving our rebates. It would mean nearly €30 million coming back to us."

She blinked in surprise. "That is substantial."

"It is, and it is beyond the tax credits that we already received, so it is literally new money. There is more. With these rebates, which we normally would not qualify for, we have sufficient funds to increase distribution in the U.S., both for _Orlena_ and _Duplicity_. They would be nationwide releases in the U.S. and Canada, if we get our rebates," he informed her.

Her pulse jumped. Bringing her movies to North America on a large scale sounded almost too good to be true. It was a dream when she first started filming in France, but one that she had essentially given up on in light of Paul's bias against the region. The muted reception for _The Muse_ in Montreal had been disappointing, and did not bode well for the rest of her films, or so she thought.

"Will Paul agree to that?" she asked carefully.

He smiled. "Paul will have no choice. I control the money and how it is to be spent. If these rebates can help finance the distribution, he can have no objection. I have raised it with him already, as an idea. He was not pleased, but he saw my point. If Xavier gives us the money, we are set."

She smiled. "That's wonderful news."

"I think so, yes," he nodded. "It all depends on Félix and Xavier. If we remain on good terms with them, everything is possible. It is a huge benefit they are giving us, if they do. Also a risk, as there is nothing that requires them to approve us."

She nodded. "I can imagine we aren't the only ones who must have sought out such special treatment from Xavier's office."

"Exact," he confirmed. "The main criteria that he uses in evaluating applications is the French element. Our movies focus on Paris and employ many French actors and crew members. One thing that we cannot change, though, is that our lead actress is not French."

She arched her eyebrow. "That did not seem to affect the reception for _Orlena_ tonight."

"The people love you, as I expected they would," he nodded. "Xavier likes you, too. But, it is an easy criticism to make, especially when he has other projects competing for funds."

She pursed her lips, considering the information.

"I am trusting Aline with Félix. He will listen to her, but he is not the Minister. He can advise Xavier in our favour, but he has no real power," he continued.

"You need Xavier himself to agree," she concluded.

"We do," he confirmed. "Understand, _Marie_ , he does like us. He likes me. He likes Paul. We all get along. He has many people in his ear, though. He has many people competing for his attention, all with worthy projects like ours. Xavier is a proud man. He will not accept bribes, and he is too strong to be intimidated, even if someone tries to say that our production is not as French as another. If it's a choice between us, and putting up with questions and criticism, though, versus another production that is not as difficult, he may be swayed against us. To stay on our side…"

"He needs to be convinced," she stated.

His eyes narrowed, his stare serious and firm. "He does, yes. I need a closer, someone to finish off all the hard work we have put in with him for months. America is a great opportunity for us. There is much exposure and money there for us. We need Xavier."

She looked away and saw Xavier sitting at Paul's table across the club, laughing and drinking.

"Leave him to me when we get to the party later," she declared, turning back to Jean-Paul. "I'll get it done."

He smiled and nodded. "Thank you, _Marie_. Make sure that you do."

* * *

"How's it going, papa?" Matthew joked, touching fists with Alex.

"Quit calling me that," Alex frowned.

"I'm not calling you 'daddy'. That's Anna's job," Matthew retorted, smiling and sipping his beer.

Alex groaned and shook his head. "Anyway, thank you for the gifts. You really didn't have to do that."

"I didn't want to. It was Mary's idea," Matthew shrugged. "I have ordered a United kit for the baby, though."

"Nice try. I already have a Madrid onesie for the baby. My kid isn't going to cheer for losers," Alex smirked.

Matthew rolled his eyes and gave him a wry smile.

"Darling," Mary called, coming over to his side.

"Hello," Matthew smiled, kissing her quickly. "Having fun?"

"Very much so," she nodded before turning to Alex. "Alex, why don't you take Anna home? She looks like she's worn out."

"I probably should, yeah," Alex agreed. He kissed Mary on the cheek and congratulated her again on the successful premiere. Slapping hands twice and tapping fists with Matthew, he nodded to both of them and left to go find his wife.

"There's an after-party that a small bunch of us are going to," Mary stated, putting her arms around her husband's neck and coming into his hold.

"Ah, another exclusive party with Paul and his lot?" Matthew asked, smiling at her.

"Exactly. Only the cool kids are allowed. I'll see you back at home later?" she asked.

He nodded. "Sounds good. I might go over to the studio for an hour or two while you're gone."

She rolled her eyes. "You can't put off doing some work for a night?"

"I did, that's why I'm here," he replied. "But while you're off gallivanting with your French crew, I'm going to go and be productive."

"All right, fine," she sighed. "Just make sure you're home when I get back."

"Are you saying you'll make it worth my while?" he asked cheekily.

"I'll put it this way – those love scenes that you saw in the movie tonight? They're absolutely pedestrian compared to what I have in store for you later," she teased.

He grinned and nodded. "I see."

She smiled and kissed him, hugging him close before stepping back.

"Have fun," he nodded, letting go of her.

"You, too. I'll see you later," she smiled, caressing his face before turning to go.

* * *

"Mary," Anna called, coming over to her.

"Anna, hi," Mary smiled. "I told your husband to take you home."

"I know, I just wanted to check-in before we left," Anna explained. "What are you doing now?"

"There's a private party with Paul and the others," Mary advised. "You're far too exhausted to come, but staff aren't allowed anyway."

"So I heard. Are you sure that you should go?" Anna asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" Mary asked in amusement. "This has been one of the best nights I've had in a long time – professionally, anyway. I don't want it to end."

"Right, but these parties can get out of hand. There's always rumours," Anna noted. "I don't have to remind you about what happened to Henry at that party in Australia."

Mary laughed and shook her head. "That's a bit dramatic, don't you think? I've been to parties like this for months now. Sure, someone might do lines of coke in some distant room or smoke weed out on the patio, but none of that has anything to do with me. Besides, Jean-Paul and his lot make sure nothing ever gets out about what goes on. I'll be perfectly safe."

"All right, I just want you to be careful," Anna warned.

Mary nodded and kissed her assistant, giving her a warm hug. "I will be. You get home and rest. Don't worry. I'll be in very good hands. Paul and Jean-Paul won't let anything happen to me. I'm far too important to them. I'm their star."

Anna smiled and nodded. "Have fun. Text me in the morning."

"I will. Good night," Mary grinned, rubbing her best friend's arm and sending her away.

After Anna left, Mary felt a tug on her arm. She turned around and smiled at Aline.

"Are you ready? Jean-Paul wants us to head out," Aline stated.

Mary smiled and nodded. "Let's go!"

Aline laughed and took Mary's arm. The two actresses headed across the club and out a side entrance to the waiting limo to be whisked away to the next party.

 **Audi'Art Lab, Quartier San Ambroise, 11e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

Matthew unlocked the door to the editing suite and went through, his fingers playing along the equipment as he headed for his usual chair. He sighed before sitting down, glancing around the small space, a couple of hours of poring over the footage of his film yet again awaiting him.

In the past week, he had checked off all the changes that Sony had requested. The film was exactly at the requested running time, the pace improved and the order of some scenes changed around. Alex had implored him to finish up and send the cut into the studio, if only to put an end to the constant back-and-forth struggle he was enduring each time he came here. It was wise advice, but still, he couldn't quite bring himself to declare the movie complete.

He sat down and opened a Coke, taking a sip as he brought up the movie on the main television and extra footage on each of the side monitors. He liked this version of the movie. It hit all the plot points he wanted and told the story he meant to tell. There were a few parts that he wasn't quite sure about – whether a particular shot of Rooney was better than another, whether a line of dialogue sounded better on the third take or the thirteenth, whether a certain camera angle was the best possible one to use.

It wasn't vanity or a quest for perfection that motivated him. He didn't think the film's commercial prospects or critical reaction would be improved by changing it further. He just wasn't entirely convinced that it looked right all the way through, and now was the time for him to get it right. Once he sent it off, it would be out of his hands forever.

Sighing, he began the playback from the beginning, leaning forward and paying close attention as the opening shot appeared on the television.

 **Private Residence, Neuilly-sur-Seine, Nanterre, France, November 2, 2018**

"It was a wonderful evening," Paul nodded. "The response was impressive, no?"

"Most impressive," Xavier agreed, sipping his champagne. "I admit that I was skeptical at first. The last film, you had Vincent to help balance the cast. This time, it is just your _Marie_ as the focus. But, it seems the public appreciates her more now."

"They do, and with good reason," Paul agreed. "You will like _Duplicity_. It is different, but more about a love triangle, the two men compete for her, rather than the story following her relationships over time."

"I look forward to it," Xavier nodded. "Jean-Paul has grand plans to take it to America."

"He does," Paul admitted, frowning slightly. "I have no use for such plans, but he wants to show our work to the world."

"It is ambitious," Xavier noted.

"An endeavour not easily achieved without proper support and resources," Paul replied.

"Resources, yes," Xavier smiled. "Everyone seems to be seeking resources these days. I cannot go two days without meeting with someone looking for resources."

Paul looked at him carefully. "You must be careful in deciding who you think is more deserving."

"I must, yes," Xavier said. "With so many worthy candidates, I remain undecided for now."

"Xavier," Jean-Paul called, coming over to the two men. "We are beginning the game. Please come and play."

Xavier nodded. "Always happy to, so long as the stakes are high enough to motivate me."

"They are, I promise," Jean-Paul smiled, gesturing for the Minister to go ahead.

Xavier walked past him and headed across the ballroom to the poker table on the far side.

Jean-Paul shared a knowing glance with Paul before following after the Minister.

* * *

"What do you know about Xavier? Has Félix shared any secrets with you?" Mary asked, allowing the doorman to remove her shawl from her shoulders before heading through the foyer and down the hall.

"What secrets do you mean?" Aline asked, walking in step with her at her side.

"What is he like? I know he's political, he supports the arts, is a fierce patriot, isn't married, and enjoys playing poker. What's he really like, though? Who is he?" Mary asked.

"Félix does say he is quite demanding," Aline nodded. "He expects perfection from his staff, and hates mistakes. He isn't boring, he does like to have fun, but he's more careful and cautious."

"He's not adventurous, then, not a risk-taker," Mary noted.

"No, I do not think so," Aline agreed.

They entered the ballroom and paused, glancing around to take in the scene. It was similar to any of the other private parties that they had previously attended. Paul and his cadre of friends were seated around a table in one corner. Xavier and Jean-Paul were playing poker with six other players in another. Beautiful women circulated about, some dancing, others watching the different games being played. Staff moved about the large room, ensuring drinks were constantly refilled and the guests kept happy.

"Félix is over there with his group," Aline remarked. "Will I see you later?"

"Maybe," Mary nodded.

"Have fun," Aline smiled, squeezing her hand and heading off to join Félix. The Minister's underling smiled and kissed her when she reached him, smoothly bringing her into the circle among his friends.

Mary made her way over to the poker table.

"Madame Orlena!" Jean-Paul called, nodding to her when she arrived. "Won't you join us?"

"Not to gamble, no, but to witness, yes," Mary smiled, nodding and coming over to take her usual seat next to him.

Xavier smiled and nodded across the table to her.

Mary returned his smile.

 **Audi'Art Lab, Quartier San Ambroise, 11e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

 _'They won't leave us alone. My brothers are loyal to my father's memory. They'll never accept you.'_

 _'I'm not really that interested in what they think. They aren't the ones I'm trying to impress.'_

 _'Don't you understand how hard this is going to be? We could try, and try, and still end up hurting each other in the end. Is it really worth all the trouble?'_

 _'Definitely.'_

 _'How can you be so sure? How do you know?'_

 _'I know what my life was like before you, and I know what my life has been since, and there's no comparison. It's worth the trouble. You're worth the trouble. Even if all we're left with in the end are memories, I'd rather have those, than nothing at all.'_

Matthew paused the playback and stared at the screen. This was an emotional scene where Rooney was crying, moving along the spectrum from sad to angry and points in between. He switched over to a different camera angle and played the scene again, seeing if he should cut from her face to his as they spoke, or keep a wider shot.

 _'Don't you understand how hard this is going to be? We could try, and try, and still end up hurting each other in the end. Is it really worth all the trouble?'_

He frowned. On the one hand, he wanted to see Rooney's reaction to what he said, the range of emotions on her face were quite poignant when paired with his voice speaking the dialogue. On the other, he needed to show his own face as well, otherwise the lines might lose some of their punch without his facial expressions to give depth to what he was saying.

 _'I know what my life was like before you, and I know what my life has been since, and there's no comparison…'_

He paused the playback and searched through the different camera angles for a shot of Rooney's face when he was speaking. Finding one where she blinked and swallowed, he moved it over and added it to the scene, creating a pause between his two lines before switching the camera angle back to his face for the rest of the dialogue.

 _'_ … _It's worth the trouble. You're worth the trouble. Even if all we're left with in the end are memories, I'd rather have those, than nothing at all.'_

He sat back and played the revised scene again, rubbing his hands together as he watched it from the beginning. Nodding his head slowly, he hunted through the other takes for other possible shots of he and Rooney to add into the scene.

 **Private Residence, Neuilly-sur-Seine, Nanterre, France, November 2, 2018**

Jean-Paul glanced at his cards before placing them face down on the table and reaching for his chips.

"Twenty thousand," he announced, moving his chips into the pot.

"Raise," Xavier replied, pushing his own chips into the centre of the table. "Forty more."

Jean-Paul looked at his cards again before checking the five community cards in play.

Mary noticed that he had three kings, one in his hand in addition to the pair on the table.

"Call," Jean-Paul replied, matching the bet and turning his cards over. "Three kings."

Xavier sighed and tossed his cards to the dealer. "Well played."

Jean-Paul nodded in acknowledgment and collected his chips.

"Was that wise?" Mary whispered, leaning over so no one else could hear them. "That's the fourth hand you've beaten him."

"Just wait, and be ready," Jean-Paul answered, reaching out and taking his cards for the next hand.

* * *

"When shall we go?" Aline asked, smiling at Félix.

"As soon as I can be sure that Xavier is taken care of," Félix replied with a smile and a pat of her hand.

"Mary's dealing with it. You have no need to fear," Aline shook her head.

"I see her sitting with Jean-Paul, while Xavier sits alone," Félix noted, glancing over at the poker table before returning his gaze to Aline.

"My dear, has it been so long that you do not remember the thrill of the chase? Xavier might enjoy it if she paid him attention so readily, but it will make a far lasting impression if she is to make him work a little bit," Aline smiled. "Trust me. Lady _Marie_ is far more skilled at this than you realize."

"I hope so, for Paul's sake. I believe that Xavier is close to a decision, and he will need more than his friendship with Jean-Paul to be swayed to grant them a favour," Félix shook his head.

"If I have learned anything about _Marie_ in the months that I've known her, it is that she hates to lose at anything. Winning Xavier's assistance gets her closer to what she wants – a career back in America. She'll do anything to make that happen," Aline assured him.

"And if she does somehow fail, will that mean my time with you will be at an end as well?" Félix teased, smiling at her.

Aline laughed. "No, my dear. One has nothing to do with the other."

* * *

"All-in," Jean-Paul announced, moving his stacks of chips forward. "Five-hundred thousand."

Mary watched as Xavier looked at his cards before appraising both the size of the pot and Jean-Paul's placid expression. The Minister played with his chips, shuffling them back and forth in his fingers as he went over the sequence of the current hand. The five community cards were queen, queen, five, eight, three. There was no possibility of a flush or straight. The question was whether Jean-Paul had a set of queens, or something lower than that.

Her eyes moved from the chips in the pot to those in Xavier's hands. The way he slipped them deftly through his fingers over and over was rather hypnotizing, the click of the chips coming together before he flicked them apart again rhythmic and almost melodic. His long fingers moved elegantly as he pondered his decision, over a million euros hanging in the balance.

She looked away from his fingers and found his green eyes staring at her. She held his gaze, waiting expectantly for his answer.

"Call," Xavier declared, placing the chips back down on the table. His eyes remained on hers as he turned his cards over. "Three queens."

Jean-Paul smiled and slid his cards back to the dealer without turning them over. "Well played, Xavier."

Mary smiled and applauded politely as Jean-Paul rose from his chair.

"Rebuy, Jean-Paul?" Xavier asked, collecting his winnings.

"I'm thinking about it," Jean-Paul answered smoothly. "I need a drink first, and maybe to move some money around. Shall we break for a bit?"

The other players chuckled and agreed, some of them rising from their chairs to follow Jean-Paul to the bar, others staying behind and checking their phones or organizing their chips.

"Your luck seems to have turned, Xavier," Mary noted, smiling at him.

"For now, yes," he agreed, smiling back at her across the table.

"Any secrets you wish to share on how you knew you had the best hand?" she asked.

He laughed and shook his head. "The odds were on my side. I had the highest three-of-a-kind. He had to have a full house to beat me, and the chances of that were slim when three queens were already accounted for."

"I see," she nodded.

"Do you play at all, Lady Mary?" he asked.

"Casually," she replied. "I don't quite have the temperament for it. I hate to lose."

"Most of us do," he nodded. "One big win like this can make up for many losses, though."

"How fortunate that you decided to take your chance when you did," she remarked.

"Fortunate, indeed," he replied.

* * *

"How goes it with our friend?" Paul asked quietly.

"I just folded a full house to let him win 1,1 million euros," Jean-Paul replied. "I've done what I can. Aline has turned Félix to our side, and he has used what influence he has. The rest is up to _Marie_ now."

Paul looked over to the poker table, watching as Mary laughed with Xavier. "We're in good hands."

 **Audi'Art Lab, Quartier San Ambroise, 11e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

Matthew fast forwarded through the last Act of the movie, watching carefully as the scenes played out quickly before him. When he reached the spot he wanted, he resumed the playback at normal speed.

 _'I was wrong. My Dad wouldn't want me to be sad. He always taught me to go after what I wanted, and even though I know he wouldn't approve, it's my life. Plus, I have disobeyed him before,'_ Josephine admitted.

 _'You have?'_ David asked incredulously.

' _Yeah. I cut my hair this one time and he didn't like it.'_

 _'I could see how this would be not really at all like that, but I'll go with it.'_

 _'Good. Still want to make those memories?'_

 _'I'm thinking of a few already.'_

He smiled and nodded as on-screen, Rooney came into his arms and kissed him. In his original outline of the story, written years ago, this scene was the most complete of all the parts he had envisioned. He didn't want it to be a typical romance where the man rescued the woman in the end. It was important that Josephine saved herself by making the conscious decision to be with David, rather than let him sweep her off her feet. The way Rooney played the scene with a bit of humour and wit was perfect, giving some levity to the otherwise heavy emotions.

He smiled and rewound the scene again. The dialogue and camera angles were perfect. The only question he had left was with regard to the background music.

 **Private Residence, Neuilly-sur-Seine, Nanterre, France, November 2, 2018**

"This was quite a profitable night for you," Mary noted, smiling as she walked down the hallway with Xavier.

"It has been a profitable night all around," he nodded. "You had a wonderful premiere, and I was able to win a little bit of money at poker."

"You've won on both counts though, haven't you? When French films do well, that must please you," she pointed out.

"It does, yes," he smiled. "I strongly believe that our industry here is among the best in the world."

"I agree. The world needs to see more of it, more of us," she remarked. "The more attention there is paid worldwide to French films, the better."

"Yes, but the most important thing is to produce strong French films here in France," he countered. "The world will take notice when the quality of our work is so undeniable that we cannot be ignored."

"You sound like Paul," she laughed. "I sometimes think he would rather French movies be a closely guarded State secret."

"He does think that way, yes," he chuckled. "I do not. You saw me in Montréal and Toronto. My job is to increase the profile of our industry beyond France, but our resources are sometimes better spent ensuring the movies made here are of the best quality, rather than going abroad and trying to convince people to watch."

"Your luck continues then," she smiled. " _Orlena_ is that top tier film that deserves to be championed in foreign markets."

He smiled and shook his head. "I do not disagree. I only wonder whether responsibility for such international distribution lies solely with the studio, or not. My office has programs to reward French films made in France. It is not part of my mandate to ensure the Americans or Canadians get to see what we create here."

They came into the foyer. The doorman came over with Mary's shawl. She turned around and allowed him to place it on her shoulders before she swept it across the chest.

"You make a provocative argument, Xavier. Do you have time to discuss this further?" she asked.

He smiled. "My car is waiting. Shall we have a chat over drinks at my townhouse back in the city?"

"Lead on," she smiled, nodding her head.

She took his arm and allowed him to escort her outside, and down the walkway to the limo parked at the kerb. Within moments they were off, headed back to downtown Paris, just the two of them.


	13. Chapter 13

**Previously:**

 **Private Residence, Neuilly-sur-Seine, Nanterre, France, November 2, 2018**

He smiled and shook his head. "I do not disagree. I only wonder whether responsibility for such international distribution lies solely with the studio, or not. My office has programs to reward French films made in France. It is not part of my mandate to ensure the Americans or Canadians get to see what we create here."

They came into the foyer. The doorman came over with Mary's shawl. She turned around and allowed him to place it on her shoulders before she swept it across the chest.

"You make a provocative argument, Xavier. Do you have time to discuss this further?" she asked.

He smiled. "My car is waiting. Shall we have a chat over drinks at my townhouse back in the city?"

"Lead on," she smiled, nodding her head.

She took his arm and allowed him to escort her outside, and down the walkway to the limo parked at the kerb. Within moments they were off, headed back to downtown Paris, just the two of them.

 **Chapter 13:**

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

Anna reached under her pillow and drew out her smartphone. Holding it beneath the duvet, she touched the Home button to turn the display on, the bright light glowing in the darkness of the bedroom. A frown crossed her brow when she saw no text or call from Mary. Her finger hovered over the Messages button, her instinct telling her she should find out where her best friend was, but she hesitated before turning off the display and returning the phone under her pillow.

"Mary's a grown woman, love. She can take care of herself," Alex mumbled, his arm securely around her waist, his deep voice rumbling from just behind her.

"It's almost 1 a.m.," she protested, reaching down and covering his hand with hers. "She should be on her way home by now."

"Why? The party is probably still going on. Today's Friday. It's not like she's got anything to do, or anywhere to be. She's basically off until January at this point with the premiere over with," he mumbled.

"She wouldn't stay too long. Matthew's not with her," she noted.

"He's probably still in the studio working on the Extended Special Collector's Edition Unrated Director's Cut. Why would she hurry back when he's not even home? Anyway, there's no need to worry that she hasn't texted you yet," he remarked.

Her frown remained. "She always texts me. She said she would."

"Then she still hasn't left and gone home yet," he replied. "Go to sleep."

"It's not like her, that's all, and these parties, they're just…" she began.

"They're just what? You've never been to any of them," he noted.

"I've been to plenty of parties to know what goes on at these fancy, private ones, and it's usually nothing good," she retorted.

"Are you sure you're not just jealous that you weren't invited?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"No!" she complained, jabbing him lightly in the ribs. "I'm just concerned that she's there alone and might get into trouble."

"She's hardly alone. Paul's there, Aline and some of the cast are there, and that financier, Jean-Paul – or whatever his name is – he's there. They all have a vested interest in Mary's well-being, so she's in good hands, I'm sure," he said easily.

"I'm not worried about anything happening to her. It's more that I don't want her to do anything foolish that might come back to bite her later," she distinguished.

"Like what? Taking drunken selfies?" he suggested.

"Or worse," she muttered.

"Love, Mary's been going to Society parties since she was eight years old. She's probably had men after her since she was fifteen. Doing stupid things on impulse isn't Mary. She's far too careful for that, even when she's drunk," he stated firmly. "She'll be fine."

"I'll feel better when she finally texts me that she's home," she grumbled.

"Could be a while. You never know, Matthew might have plans for her when she does get home. Go to sleep," he repeated.

She sighed wearily and closed her eyes, letting the warmth from her husband's embrace wash over her. Whatever Mary was up to, she prayed she had things under control.

 **Townhouse of Xavier Rémy, Trocadéro, 16e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

"May I?" Xavier asked.

Mary smiled at him over her shoulder and nodded. "Please."

He reached around her and undid the clasp holding her shawl together. Pulling the cashmere wrap apart, he took it off of her bare shoulders and folded it before placing it on a chair in the foyer.

"Just through there and to your right," he directed, smirking as she went ahead of him and into the townhouse.

A film premiere was a gala event, but not quite as formal. Mary had chosen an elegant, but comfortable ensemble for the night – a black backless dress with no sleeves that showed off her shoulders and toned arms. The skirt moved easily as she walked, showing just a glimpse of her feet and ankles, yet framing her legs and bottom delightfully. He admired the view before following after her and escorting her into his parlour.

"What are you drinking?" he asked. "Let me make you something."

She gave him a playful smile and headed over to his bar. "Let me make you something. It'll be a surprise."

He grinned as he went and sat down on the leather sofa. She faced away from him as she prepared their drinks, scooping ice and reaching for various bottles before mixing vigorously in a cocktail shaker. He admired her graceful movements, the lines of her body, from her fingers to her back, sharp and alluring.

Eventually, he had to raise his gaze to her eyes when she turned around and came to him, holding two cocktail glasses. She handed one to him and sat down next to him on the sofa.

He glanced at his drink for a moment. It was opaque, a light yellow-green in colour. Smiling at her, he raised his glass.

"Santé," she replied, taking a sip with him.

He licked his lips slightly, savouring the sweet and sour notes of the cocktail, together with a strong earthy flavour.

"Mmm, gin, Chartreuse, and lime, and what else?" he asked.

She nodded. "Maraschino liqueur. It's called The Last Word. It's originally an American drink but my father used to serve it at parties because it's sweet, but has a bit of a bite. When I saw you had Chartreuse, I was inspired to make it for you."

"It's very good," he nodded. "It does have a bit of a bite, though not much of one."

"I didn't want to make it too strong, lest you think I was trying to take advantage of you," she teased.

He laughed and took another sip, his eyes watching her. She had styled her hair in waves, with the long, dark brown tresses gathered to one side of her face. This left the right side of her pale neck and cheek exposed. The sweep of her bare skin, from her shoulder up to her ear, seemed to be begging for the touch of his lips.

"Xavier," she called, her voice smooth as the drink she'd made for him. "Shall we discuss why we're here?"

He smirked. "I would love to."

 **Audi'Art Lab, Quartier San Ambroise, 11e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

Matthew sighed and shook his head, pausing the scene and rewinding it back to the beginning. In all his years of acting, from theatre school and his first small parts, through to starring turns in Hollywood films, he never imagined he would ever be doing something like this.

Sitting in a dark editing suite at 1 a.m. mixing the sound for a scene of him having sex with a woman who wasn't Mary.

Jack had given him several different instrumental tracks to use, from a slow and almost mournful piano, to deep drums and sensual violins. As the only love scene in the film, he wanted it to capture the ease and comfort that David and Josephine shared, but also show the desperate need they had for each other. The music started out soft and quiet, before building to the end of the scene. He wanted the sound to help set the mood, without becoming a distraction, but he really had no idea what instruments went well with sex.

If that wasn't enough, he also had to tackle the recorded dialogue and sound effects.

Even now, months removed from filming in Toronto, he felt his cheeks flush slightly at listening to he and Rooney moaning and groaning through the scene. She was topless, but covered by him the entire time. Though she had done nude scenes numerous times before, he wasn't comfortable asking it of her for his movie. The scene ended with the camera panning to a mirror showing their blurred reflection, their cries echoing in the background.

Re-watching the scene now brought his mind back to Mary's love scenes in _Orlena_ from earlier in the evening. The first one with Jimmy had barely registered with him. He was used to seeing her so often with Henry in _Paladin_ that he had become desensitized to seeing her with another man on-screen. The scene with Aline, by contrast, had come as a shock, both because he wasn't expecting it to be so involved, but also because it changed how he saw the story and the characters. While it was obvious that Orlena and Ludivine were lovers, the love scene emphasized that in striking detail, and suggested that there was more to it than mere experimentation, particularly given Mary's enthusiasm.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at the still shot of him kissing Rooney. How did Paul tell Mary that the love scene with Aline was going to be changed and drawn out? Was it explained to her why it was important? Did she just get the revised script pages and start rehearsing without a word? What was her reaction? Clearly she was fine with performing it, but did she just accept it as another scene, or did she take an active role in planning it out and choreographing it?

He shook his head and scolded himself. Mary was a professional. She would have approached that scene like any other, with the same care, discipline and dedication that she always brought to bear on her work. She did what she felt was necessary to achieve her goal – making the best film possible, giving herself the best chance at success. He knew better than almost anyone the lengths she was willing to go to in pursuit of what she wanted. This was but another example, and judging by the reaction of the audience and critics so far tonight, it had worked. So long as she achieved what she desired in the end, almost nothing was out of the question.

He took another sip of Coke and played his love scene with Rooney from the beginning again, paying close attention to make sure the background music didn't clash with the dialogue during their flirty foreplay.

 **Townhouse of Xavier Rémy, Trocadéro, 16e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

"My office is tasked with keeping French talent and French films in France, as well as drawing international productions to our facilities," Xavier explained. "Beyond the production process, nothing else concerns me."

Mary nodded politely and set her empty cocktail glass down on the table before replying. "That may be technically correct, however you must want all films produced here to succeed. Not only does it enhance France as a filming location, but it also helps convince your native actors and directors to stay here, rather than go off to Croatia, or Spain, or someplace else. The more people around the world that see French movies, the better for you and the industry."

He smiled. "I want the best people to come here, be they French, or others."

She smiled and nodded while he sipped his drink. A shiver of excitement ran up her spine, a warmth spreading across her chest. The French Minister for Culture was an intellectual, and it was fun to spar with him. She was reminded of the geisha she had seen in Japan, women who could dazzle men with their witty conversation as well as their looks, using smiles and comments to have their clients reveal anything they wanted. There were tales of how during feudal times, geisha would entertain rival shogun and steal their secrets and hearts. It was so wonderfully appropriate – a woman viewed as a sexual object by men of power using that infatuation to her advantage.

Her arousal stirred at the thought. Xavier controlled 30 million euros that Jean-Paul could use to bring her films to North America and across the world. For all the wealth, prestige and power of Jean-Paul, Paul and the studio, these men needed her to achieve their goals, to get Xavier to grant them his favour. Would the Minister have even attended the premiere tonight if she wasn't starring in the film? Would he have come to the after-party, and the private party beyond that? Would he be here now, entertaining her in his lavish home in an exclusive gated neighbourhood in Paris? 30 million euros, hers for the taking. The thought was even more intoxicating than the drinks she'd had tonight.

"I'm pleased to see that you're progressive in your thinking, Xavier," she noted. "I've not always had such a warm reception from the French. Some whisper that I don't belong here."

He snorted and shook his head. "My France would never dismiss a beautiful, talented woman, _Marie_. Paul tells me that you are a pleasure to work with. You speak our language, you embrace your role here, and you are very good at what you do. You belong among us, no question."

She smiled and nodded.

"Would you like a tour of the house? It isn't much, but there is more to it than just this room," he smiled, putting his drink down.

She held out her hand to him. "That would be lovely."

He smiled and took her hand, helping her up from the sofa. She slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow, hanging on to him as he escorted her back out to the hallway.

"The home dates back to the 19th century. Victor Hugo once lived down the street," he explained as he led her deeper into the house.

 **Audi'Art Lab, Quartier San Ambroise, 11e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

 _'Come on, Jo. Trust me. Trust us.'_

 _'I can't! We're done. It's over. Our families, the history…we'll only end up hurting each other.'_

Matthew frowned and paused the playback. The break-up scene was always a critical point in a film like his. If not done properly, all the drama and tension built up beforehand would fizzle away in a contrived mess, and he would lose his audience for the rest of the movie. He didn't need it to be overdone, and Rooney was excellent at not embellishing the emotion too much. The pain and sense of loss and defeat needed to be real, so that all of the lovely relationship moments shown up to this part of the movie felt all the more tragic. He didn't want a sob story, though.

 _'We can't change what happened before, what our fathers did. It was another time, and had nothing to do with us. We can decide right now whether we choose to be ruled by their mistakes, or not. We don't need to be them. We can just be us.'_

He looked at the other monitors, searching for a better shot of Rooney looking at him while he spoke his line. During filming, he had her try numerous reactions, from sad and hurt, to hesitant and hopeful. He wasn't sure whether he wanted the scene to be a complete meltdown, with no indication that there was any future for the couple, or whether he wanted to leave a small hint, a seed of possibility for reconciliation. Since Josephine would be the one to go to David in the end, it was important that the last the audience saw of her in this scene showed her struggle, that she was doing something not necessarily that she wanted, but that she felt she must.

He found a great shot of her shutting her eyes and cringing slightly, the briefest of moments before she resumed a hard stare, but enough to show that his words had gotten to her. Cutting and pasting the shot into the film, he rewound the scene and watched it again.

"Even I think they're breaking up for good," he chuckled in disbelief as the scene ended with David's head falling and Josephine walking away.

 **Townhouse of Xavier Rémy, Trocadéro, 16e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

"Oh, Xavier!" Mary exclaimed, smiling in delight as he led her into the next room.

A single leather sofa sat in the middle, a series of pot lights on the ceiling shining down on the far wall. Several paintings were arranged in the salon style, the different frames mounted close together like the pieces of a puzzle, covering the entire wall.

He smiled as she left him and walked over to take a closer look at his art collection. His arousal flared, his eyes moving from her exposed nape, down her bare back and across the curve of her bottom covered by the skirt. All manner of thoughts danced through his imagination as he glanced over at the sofa and back to her.

"Some of these were collected by my family over the decades, some others I bought myself," he explained, coming up behind her. "This is my favourite room in the house."

"With good reason!" she agreed, looking back at him with bright eyes before returning to the paintings. "Monet, Degas, Doré. Very impressive."

She moved along the wall, taking in the entire collection. He went with her, watching closely as she approached one particular painting. He had it mounted in the centre of the wall, with a perfect view from the sofa.

"Oh, goodness," she mumbled, stopping when she came to a colourful painting of a woman lying naked in bed, her legs parted, her head turned to the side. Her clothes were strewn about in the foreground, showing she had just had sex. Looming in the background with his dark gaze upon her was a man, standing fully clothed, tall and proud, admiring his handiwork.

"It is called _Rolla_ , by a painter named Henri Gervex, from the 19th century," he said smoothly. He placed one hand across the small of her bare back, his fingers caressing her smooth skin.

"Rolla," she repeated, her breath catching.

"It was inspired by a poem of the same name, by Alfred de Musset. That man in the background is Jacques Rolla, the protagonist in the poem," he explained.

She nodded. "And the woman? His lover?"

"A prostitute," he replied, his breath warm on her shoulder and neck. "Her name is _Marie_."

"I see," she swallowed.

"In the poem, the man is ruined. Shortly after this encounter, he commits suicide by poison," he continued, his lips ghosting near her ear. "I don't dwell on that too much, though. I prefer to focus on her. She looks beautiful, no? Wonderfully tired and sated from their lovemaking. In this moment, she is not a prostitute, but a woman, naked and bare, happy and content with who she is, and what they've done."

His fingers crept up her back and towards her side. The cut of the dress meant she wasn't wearing a bra, and his eyes widened with hunger as he felt the warmth of her skin beneath his touch.

She kept staring at the painting, her eyes leaving the naked woman on the bed and returning to the man gazing at her. The artist had deliberately obscured his features in shadow, his dark eyes pointed at the woman in unblinking rapture. Xavier was right. This did not seem to depict a man about to take his own life. If anything, it looked like he was about to go back to bed and ravish the prostitute again.

The prostitute named _Marie_.

She gasped quietly as Xavier removed his hand and stepped away from her, the lost heat from his body leaving her suddenly cold.

"Let me know if you have any questions about anything. Once you have gotten a closer look, come join me on the sofa. It is the best view from there," he directed her, turning away and going to sit down.

She took a moment to catch her breath. Her pulse raced as she moved away from the _Rolla_ painting and looked at the rest, feeling his eyes upon her, watching her. She smiled and took her time, letting him stare a while longer. She would join him on the sofa in due time. For now, she was happy to let him admire her from a distance.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

The apartment was dark when Matthew returned. He wasn't surprised that Mary was not yet home. Even though premiere parties never went very late, he expected that Paul and his lot would be in a celebratory mood tonight. Though the French director went to great pains to appear indifferent to the response from critics and fans alike, he was a proud man, and considered himself special. Men like him secretly loved adulation, and when they received it, they soaked it up.

He left his laptop in the living room and dropped his bag on the floor, fatigue setting in as he made his way down the hallway and to the bedroom. Since returning to Paris from their honeymoon, his schedule had been all over the place. He spent long nights at the studio, woke up late in the mornings and worked out in the afternoons. Now, with his film nearly complete, the relentless pace was catching up to him.

Undressing slowly, he tossed his clothes in his closet and wandered into the bathroom. Ideally, he would wait for Mary to come home before showering, but he expected she would still be a while yet. Even though she had promised him something wicked tonight, he wouldn't be able to wait up for her. Besides, ever since Japan, he had learned to enjoy sex in the mornings, a rare indulgence that they never used to have time for.

He waited for the shower to heat up, the water pressure disappointingly weak, as usual. Stepping beneath the downpour, he rinsed himself thoroughly before grabbing the shampoo and body wash and having a good lather and scrub.

Part of being Mary's boyfriend, and now husband, was putting up with all of her admirers. It was worse here in France, surprisingly. Though she was popular in North America, fans tended to be more respectful, usually happy with an autograph or selfie, and more likely to leave her alone, even if they recognized her. While she wasn't as well known here, those who did know her seemed to think they could take more liberties with her. When she posed for photos, fans would often put their arms around her. Even the questions she got from the media and shouts from the paparazzi were more bold, and sometimes even rude. Paul and Jean-Paul looked at her as though she was property, more than a colleague or collaborator. She likely didn't see it that way, but Matthew could tell. Time and experience had taught him how to spot men who coveted Mary. Being in the industry for so long, they both were well aware that women were treated as commodities in many respects.

It was so different from his own experience, he mused as he let the water wash the soap from his body. Even though millions of people knew him first as an Armani model, his looks and his body weren't exploited in the same manner. Between _Shattered_ and _10 Days_ , he'd filmed three movies without a love scene, or even having to take his shirt off. By contrast, all three of Mary's movies for Paul involved more than one sex scene, and long, drawn out ones at that. He trusted his wife to know her limits and protect herself from being exploited, but the fact that she had to put up with such expectations as a reality of her career was disconcerting.

He finished rinsing and turned off the water. Stepping out of the shower, he walked over to the mirror and dried himself off. His arousal grew thinking about Mary. After brushing his teeth, he threw on a pair of shorts and pyjama pants and went to bed. His eyes closed quickly as he stretched out beneath the soft duvet. Hopefully, she would wake him up when she got in.

 **Townhouse of Xavier Rémy, Trocadéro, 16e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

"May I?" Xavier asked, holding his hand out.

"Of course," Mary smiled and nodded, placing her left hand in his.

He pulled her closer, admiring the sparkle of her diamond engagement ring and wedding band. The lights of the room were set up so all of the focus was on the wall of art, leaving the sofa darkened by shadow. Even in the dim light, her jewels shone.

"Beautiful," he nodded, smiling at her rings. "Your husband has very good taste, obviously."

She smiled, letting him keep hold of her hand. "Matthew knows what I like."

He chuckled, rubbing her fingers for a moment before releasing her. "Is he supportive of your career? I imagine it's hard when both of you are actors, dealing with conflicting schedules and being in different filming locations, and such."

"He is entirely supportive," she nodded. "I'm very lucky to have him on my side."

"And does he help you with your decisions? How much input does he have?" he asked.

She laughed. "Not much, though he isn't alone there. I ask for his advice sometimes, but I make my own decisions and he respects that."

"He's a feminist," he chuckled. "And your being here with me tonight, this was your choice, and yours alone?"

She smirked and held his gaze. "What do you think?"

He smiled, not even trying to hide his eyes moving down her body and back up to her face. "I think you were told to come here, but as you say, you make your own decisions, so you are here by your own choice."

"Told to come here? By who, pray?" she asked in amusement.

"It is no secret that Paul and Jean-Paul have made demands of me, both for _Orlena_ , and for your next film, _Duplicity_. They had Aline become friendly with Félix so he would champion their cause," he noted.

"And what role am I to play in this drama of yours?" she smiled.

"Since you're here with me now, it seems that they think your company might sway me in their direction," he replied. "Or, at a minimum, they are not against you making the attempt."

She laughed smugly. "My company? Is that all? Some lovely conversation and you'll join our cause?"

He smiled and shook his head. "It is a good start."

She looked across to the painting of _Rolla_ once more, her blood singing in her veins. Xavier's direct approach thrilled her. He had played the game well enough, engaged in the usual polite exchanges and subtle suggestions, but now it seemed he was ready to get down to the heart of the matter, and she was more than happy to put her cards on the table, as well, so to speak.

"I wonder how many other projects we may be competing with for your blessing?" she mused, looking over at him and arching her eyebrow. "I also wonder what other groups have offered you to try and sway you in their direction?"

He shrugged. "I receive applications and inquiries constantly. There are many worthy French films, some that clearly need more support than you do. Not all of them have backers like Jean-Paul."

"Perhaps not, but not all of them have the potential to attract a worldwide audience and shine a brighter spotlight on France and its industry the way that we can," she replied.

"I do not think that the merit of your two films is in question," he allowed. "It comes down to who I feel most comfortable supporting."

"It comes down to your comfort?" she repeated.

"Yes," he nodded, looking at her intently. "In your case, you are asking me to commit 30 million euros of the government's money to assist you. Such a pledge cannot merely be based on whether a film is good or not?"

"What else is there to consider?" she laughed, daring him with her eyes to say what they both already knew.

" _Marie_ , please, do not think I cannot see what your play is here," he smirked. "This money isn't going towards your production budget. It doesn't employ more French actors or crew members. Your films are already complete. If I agree to Paul and Jean-Paul's plans, the money will allow them to take your films to America and beyond. You are asking me to help finance your attempt to return to Hollywood."

Her chest tightened at his implication, not expecting him to go in that direction.

"So," he continued, reaching out and taking her hand in his. "Why should I give you the means to leave us? What possible benefit is there for France, for French culture, if I pay for you to resurrect your career somewhere else?"

She watched him closely, not pulling away from his grasp.

"That is why you are here, really," he declared. "You have a personal stake in this, a vested interest. You need me and my support, and you don't trust anyone else with something so important for you. You think that you can persuade me, don't you, _Marie_?"

At the mention of her name, she glanced over at the painting once more, the prostitute lying in bed, laid bare before the ravenous gaze of Rolla. She didn't look sated and serene though, as Xavier had previously suggested. Now, Mary saw her as being trapped, naked and vulnerable, at the mercy of her captor with nowhere to go.

"It seems that you expect me to give you a reason to back us?" she asked, turning back to look at him. "As you say, 30 million euros is a significant sum. You know that the international exposure that my films would give to France is worth the investment, so what else do you require to secure your support?"

He smiled and let go of her hand. "Shall I show you?"

She arched her eyebrow and shook her head. "Why don't you let me guess?"

He smiled and watched as she leaned in closer. Her fingers slipped past his blazer jacket and slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

"I think you have very particular preferences," she began, deftly revealing more of his chest. "Jean-Paul could have sent any woman to you, there were plenty at the party tonight, and at those that you've attended in the past. You agreed for me to be here with you, which tells me that you not only are willing to consider our request, but that you think I might be able to convince you to do so."

He sat back and watched her, more than happy to let her take the lead for now.

"What is so special about me that draws your interest?" she asked, spreading his shirt and blazer apart. He was fit for his age, his dark skin smooth and firm. "What is it you like about me above all others?"

He chuckled as she ran her fingers lightly across his chest.

"Is it because I'm an actress, the star of Paul's films? Is it because I'm English, a representative of France's age-old enemy? Maybe it's because I'm married?" she suggested.

He growled, breathing heavily as he watched her.

"Perhaps it's all of the above? If they sent Aline or another woman to you, it would be enjoyable, but nothing more than a dalliance. You want something more than that. You want something memorable. Conquering an English actress behind her husband's back, now that is an achievement that could be worth 30 million euros," she teased.

" _Marie_ ," he grinned.

"Have you thought about me before, Xavier?" she asked, arching her eyebrow. "Have you imagined bringing me here, to this very room?"

He nodded, his eyes devouring her.

"I want to hear you say it," she whispered, leaning towards him, her breath warm against his ear. "I want to hear you tell me what you want."

"You," he snarled, reaching up and rubbing her bare arm. "I want to make you mine. Tonight."

She laughed darkly. "30 millions euros for a night with me?"

"Not just one night," he shook his head, ogling her blatantly.

"What more, then?" she asked.

He hummed in anticipation. "I have plans for you, _Marie_. Think of all we could accomplish together, all of us. With you as the star, Paul directing, and my support, we can show the glory of France to the world, that we stand behind no one."

She blinked at his words. "You would support us, beyond these two films?"

He turned to look at her, his lips but a breath from hers. "Think of it. You were driven away from America, sent here, and here is where you will build your name, your fortune, greater and more spectacular than before. The possibilities, _Marie_! I will show you. I have ambitions beyond just this Ministry."

"To a higher office?" she asked, her pulse jumping.

"There is a long history of mistresses among the ruling class in France," he smiled, moving his fingers up to her shoulder. "As I am unattached, there is far less potential for the controversy that has plagued some of my predecessors. You would not be scrutinized, and our association would remain a secret, even from your husband. However, as I rise, so will you. Imagine having not only financial support, but political will on your side. You would be a force. So you see, I am offering you far more than 30 million euros."

She shuddered at the possibility. Near limitless power. With Paul, Jean-Paul and Xavier on her side, no scandal would be able to touch her. No studio would dare freeze her out with the money and resources behind her. She wouldn't need Hollywood at all. She would already rule Paris.

"I want to hear you say it, _Marie_ ," he ordered, kissing her shoulder softly. "Beg me. Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to make you mine, make you my star."

"Xavier," she replied, kissing his cheek and smiling. "I'll never be yours."

He frowned and stared at her incredulously as she pulled back and stood up from the sofa.

"What?" he sputtered. "What are you talking about?"

"You make a very enticing offer, as deplorable as it is," she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Years ago, I would have slapped you for even thinking it. Since then, I've been made to suffer, through the deeds of selfish men, and by no fault of my own. There is a great deal of truth to what you say, and many benefits for me, were I to accept."

"And yet you do not! Why?" he demanded.

"I won't be anyone's mistress," she stated firmly. "I won't allow my situation to compromise who I am. Tonight, it's starting an affair with you. Tomorrow, who knows what demands I would give in to? Beyond that, who's to say who I would become? Success, no matter how fiercely sought after, isn't worth that, not for me."

"Think very carefully on what you are choosing to do, _Marie_ ," he warned her, not moving from the sofa. "If you walk away now, you could lose everything. I will not be so generous again. To reject me is to reject Paul, and Jean-Paul, and the career that they are offering to you. You saw the reaction when you were in Montréal and Toronto. You've been forgotten over there. There's no future for you without us."

"Without you? Paul and Jean-Paul won't let me go," she replied bravely, a jolt of fear welling in her stomach. "You saw the response at the premiere tonight. They know my worth."

"Your worth?" he smirked. "And if I tell them that a condition of their rebates being approved is that you are not part of future projects, what do you think they will say? No? They've put far too much effort into winning my support to give up now. But I don't need to tell you about the fickleness of studios and directors, do I?"

"So you would seek to ruin me just because I refuse to sleep with you, is that it?" she snapped.

"Not at all. I offered you an opportunity. You've declined. As a result, we return to who we were, no more," he shrugged.

"But you won't pledge your support to our films, as a result, no doubt," she stated.

"You came here to convince me. I'd say you haven't yet succeeded. You still can," he smiled ruthlessly.

"I won't be anyone's mistress," she repeated. "The merit of my films, and our continued association should be enough for you."

"Go, then," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "My driver will take you home. You are making the biggest mistake of your life, I promise you that."

"Oh, I'm not so sure that I am," she shrugged, reaching into the folds of her skirt and pulling out her phone.

He blinked in shock. "What is that?"

She arched her eyebrow and pressed her finger to the sound recorder app on her screen.

 _'You. I want to make you mine. Tonight.'_

 _'30 millions euros for a night with me?'_

 _'Not just one night.'_

"You recorded us?" he shouted, rising to his feet.

"You have it in your discretion to support us still, Xavier," she reminded him, looking up at him defiantly. "You still have the chance to do the right thing."

He glared at her for a moment, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

She held his stare, her chin raised, though her heartbeat was hammering in her chest.

A smile spread across his lips. He shook his head and stepped away from her. "So what is this, then? Recording me without my consent renders this useless before the courts, and I've committed no crime. It's a power-play? If I don't agree to support you, you'll go to the press with your recording and say what? The Minister for Culture propositioned you?"

"If I must," she replied coldly. "You seemed all too ready to back me into a similar corner just now."

He laughed. "Try and take me down and I won't be going alone, _Marie_ , I promise you that. You're hardly innocent in this. I will also name Paul, Jean-Paul, Aline, and each and every person associated with your films who have tried to buy my support."

"You won't risk such a stain on the industry," she countered.

"And you won't survive yet another scandal," he shot back. "Where will you turn when France is closed to you? Bollywood?"

She frowned. "It won't come to that."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Go. You've made your choice. You knew what was expected of you when you agreed to come back here with me. Good night, _Marie_. Good luck to you."

She nodded and left, her heels clicking on the floor as she walked briskly from the room. She did not look back on her way to the foyer, where she snatched her shawl from the chair and headed for the door. Storming outside, she nodded to the driver before getting into the limo.

"Le Marais, s'il vous plaît," she ordered.

Xavier came to the entrance of the house as the driver was getting settled. She saw him, the tinted glass making it impossible for him to see her. As the limo pulled away from the kerb, she looked away, her stomach twisting.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

From the blue lit numbers of the clock on the nightstand, it was past 2 a.m. when Matthew blinked his eyes open and heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Mary came into the bedroom, a spectre in the darkness.

"You're home," he mumbled, closing his eyes and rolling over.

"I am," she confirmed walking past him and into the bathroom.

He stretched and rested while she changed and readied herself for bed. He drifted off while waiting for her, only waking up again when he felt her slip in behind him and wrap her arms around his waist from behind.

"How was the party?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. Matthew, can I ask you something?" she said quietly.

"Mmm, sure. What is it?" he muttered.

"Would you still love me if I wasn't an actress?" she asked.

He blinked several times, his mind slowly waking up as he tried to make sure he heard her correctly. Finally rolling over to face her, he looked at her curiously. "What are you talking about?"

"I've always wanted to be an actress, since I was a little girl, you know that. If I wasn't an actress, though, if _Duplicity_ was my last film, would you still love me?" she clarified.

"Mary, I don't care that you're an actress," he replied. "I mean, of course, I care, but your choice of career doesn't affect how I feel about you. We're both actors, but that's not why I'm with you."

"But how can you be so sure? You've always known that acting is my one ambition in life. It's so fundamental to who I am, the choices that I make, the way I live my life. If all of that was taken away, who would I be?" she questioned.

"Lady Mary Crawley, my wife, and the woman I love," he smiled.

"So, it doesn't matter?" she asked softly. "I could lose all of it and you'd still be here?"

He smiled. "I'll always be here, no matter what you do. I didn't marry Lady Mary, the aristocrat, or Mary Crawley, the actress. I married you, darling. I chose you to spend the rest of my life with. That Mary, my Mary, is the true Mary, and she is a formidable woman, a woman any man would be lucky to be with, no matter her title or career."

She reached up and caressed his face, kissing him softly.

"What brought all of this on?" he frowned. "You all right?"

She smiled with relief and nodded. "I am now. Thank you so much, darling."

"Always," he smiled, kissing her forehead and holding her close.

"Matthew," she called.

"Mmm, yes?" he replied.

"Words are just words," she whispered, kissing his neck, her hand moving down between their bodies.

"Mary," he sighed, his hand moving to her front and cupping her bare breast.

"Please, Matthew," she begged, her voice shaking. "I need you. Show me how much you love me."

Something about her demand didn't sound right to him. It didn't have the usual playfulness or lust behind it. It sounded more needy, which he never heard from her. Before he could contemplate it further, her hand slipped past his pyjamas and took hold of him. She stroked him firmly, and the feel of her body against his quickly brought him to full wakefulness and desire.

"Please, Matthew, please," she chanted. "I want you inside me."

He helped her strip off his pyjamas and shorts. Her desperation seemed similar to when she came home drunk and randy, so he accepted it as just that. Her lurid words and depraved actions distracted him completely from the earlier suspicion that something was amiss.

He whipped her boy shorts off and pounced on her, drawing a loud moan of encouragement from her open lips. He kissed her heatedly, sliding his tongue past her lips and finding her eager to let him in. She spread her legs and hooked them around him, shifting her hips against him with almost frantic urgency.

"Slow down, Mary," he rasped, taking her arms and pinning them above her head. "You'll get it when I say you'll get it."

"Fuck, Matthew!" she cried, moaning as he closed his lips firmly on her neck. "Please, give it to me! I'll do anything!"

"That raises all sorts of possibilities," he teased, moving down to seize her breast with his lips and teeth.

She groaned and arched her back towards him. "Please, please," she called, writhing in his hold, her legs trying to pull him closer.

"I want you to be loud," he growled in her ear, reaching down and lifting her legs up, spreading her open for him. "I want you to scream yourself hoarse. Will you do that for me, darling?"

"Yes! Yes! Anything," she babbled, keeping her arms above her head.

"Good," he said ominously, shifting into position.

She shouted at the first thrust, and didn't stop until he finished.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

"Poached, over easy, and egg-white omelette with ham and green peppers," Alex declared, serving the plates before sitting down at the dining table with Anna, Mary and Matthew.

"Mmm, this looks delicious," Mary smiled, taking a freshly baked croissant and passing the basket on to Matthew.

"Really great," Matthew agreed, nodding to Alex. "And much better than fighting for a brunch table at a restaurant."

"Alex prefers not going out these days," Anna smirked at her husband. "He's suddenly become paranoid about how food is prepared when we go out."

"I'm not paranoid," Alex retorted. "I just like knowing what goes into every meal, that's all."

"Has he been restricting your diet? Tom tried to do that with Sybil and she almost killed him," Mary noted.

"He's not restricting my diet. He just won't let me eat anything good," Anna grumbled. "No more fish of any kind, sushi, deli meat, caffeine, soft cheese, or pâté. God, I'm lucky I'm not living in a city that just happens to have incredible coffee, cheese and pâté."

Matthew smiled at Mary knowingly.

"Keep joking. I still haven't made your smoothie yet," Alex warned. "It's avocado, basil, cucumber and spinach today."

Anna shook her head and took a forkful of her omelette.

Their banter continued, moving on from Anna's pregnancy to discussing whatever they heard on the news that morning. It was just another lovely brunch between the two couples, best friends, allies, and neighbours here in Paris. Mary and Anna were going shopping today. Matthew and Alex were headed to the gym. They might meet up later for dinner. With nothing really pressing, they could take their time and spend the day as they wished.

Something was off, though.

Matthew felt it. He felt it last night when he and Mary made love, and again this morning when they woke up. She hadn't mentioned anything about last night's private party, and said nothing about it over brunch, either. There was never much to tell about these things anyway, but her complete silence on the subject was unusual. Rather than bring it up himself, he allowed her to choose to come to him about it. So far, she hadn't said a word.

Through the rest of brunch she smiled and laughed as normal, a bit tired still from the festivities of last night, but didn't behave any differently. They finished their meal and helped clear the dishes. Eventually, she announced that she and Anna were off. He kissed her before they left.

"I'll see you later," she smiled, caressing his cheek.

"Talk to you then," he replied with a nod.

Her smile wavered for just a split second before she nodded and went out with Anna.

"All right, we should walk over to the gym," Alex declared, coming into the living room. "Today is leg day. You ready?"

Matthew took one last look at the closed door that Mary had just disappeared through and decided to put off his contemplations until he saw her later.

"Always up for a leg day," he smiled wryly, nodding to Alex.

 **Carroussel du Louvre, 1er arrondissement, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

Mary looked away, waiting for Anna to reply to her revelation about her evening with Xavier. They were wandering through the underground shopping mall, but hadn't bought anything. She was too distracted, needing to confess what happened to her best friend, but dreading reliving it again.

"When you went back to his place, though, what did you think would happen?" Anna asked, watching Mary carefully.

Mary rolled her eyes. "I never actually felt in danger, so going back with him wasn't a problem. He really should support our films based on merit alone. I was fine with being friendly with him. Of course, I knew that he wanted more from me, what was expected, but I was hoping I could convince him to be reasonable. "

"But he obviously wasn't convinced," Anna remarked.

Mary sighed and shook her head. "No, he wasn't. When Paul and Jean-Paul don't get the tax rebates, that'll be the end of my burgeoning French film career."

Anna frowned. "They'll hold you responsible?"

"They wanted me to close the deal with Xavier. Obviously, I failed, as impossible as the situation was. They may not openly say anything about it, but if Paul chooses not to work with me for his next project, that'll be the reason, even if he doesn't admit to it," Mary shrugged.

"That doesn't seem fair," Anna remarked. "They honestly expected you to sleep with him?"

"They expected me to do what was necessary, which is what Aline did with Félix," Mary replied bitterly. "It's decidedly unfair, but what am I to do about it? If I go public, Xavier will ruin the lot of them and I'll be tainted even more than I already am. If I keep quiet, at least I'll still have a slim chance to keep working without another scandal over my head."

"So what now?" Anna asked.

"I honestly don't know. Maybe go back to television and try and work my way back up again. I'll have to speak to Aunt Rosamund and see. No more movies for a while, I expect," Mary complained.

"And what about Matthew?" Anna continued.

Mary nodded. "I have to tell him. He'll be furious."

"With Paul and Xavier, surely?" Anna noted.

"Yes, but also with me," Mary replied.

"But why?" Anna asked in confusion.

Mary turned and looked at her best friend grimly. "Because I'll have to tell him that for a moment, I considered agreeing to Xavier's terms."

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

Matthew wasn't home when she returned. She considered that a lucky stroke. It gave her more time to prepare for the talk that was coming. She poured herself a glass of wine to calm herself, staring out the window to the chilly street below.

As her day had gone on, she felt worse and worse. Going back to Xavier's townhouse and flirting with him wasn't so bad. It was not much different than having to charm an investor, or network with studio executives. She hadn't crossed any lines, and she was confident he would agree, though he wouldn't be pleased about her being alone with a man who clearly wanted sex from her.

She was more concerned that once he knew the truth about what happened, he would see what they did last night in a much different light. Upon returning to the apartment, she was desperate for him, had practically jumped him and begged him for comfort, without giving any explanation. He had responded as she expected he would – with care, and attention, and fierce passion. She was able to forget all about her time with Xavier by drowning in the rapture of her husband's love.

But she had used him. There was no question of that.

She stared down at her rings, their weight suddenly heavy on her finger.

The sound of her phone made her jump.

Going over to the coffee table, she picked it up and frowned at Jean-Paul's name on the call display. Debating whether or not to answer, she finally decided there was no use putting this conversation off. She would rather get ahead of the storm.

"Hello, Jean-Paul," she answered in French.

" _Marie_ , hello! How are you?" Jean-Paul greeted her cheerfully.

"Well, thank you, and you?" she asked, frowning at his unexpectedly jovial tone.

"I am elated, of course! I wanted to call you to pass along my deepest, and most heartfelt appreciation and gratitude. You have done us, and yourself, a great service, _Marie_ ," he gushed.

"I'm glad to hear that you feel that way," she replied carefully, still perplexed as to what he meant.

"I will not say anything more, and we need not discuss it again, but you told me that you would take care of Xavier, and you did, and I cannot wait to bring these films to the world," he exclaimed.

Her eyes went wide in surprise. "You've spoken to Xavier, then?"

"Earlier today, yes. He was discrete, I promise you. He told me that he had a memorable evening with you and that he has decided to give us his support. I did not ask him anything further, and I do not want to know anything further. That is between you and him, and none of my business," he assured her.

She blinked in shock. "I see. Well, of course, I'm glad."

"So you should be. I'll speak to Paul and start planning for the American premiere. I believe Los Angeles is perhaps a better place to go than New York, but we can discuss it together. As for _Duplicity_ , this is wonderful news. With more time to work with, we can try and coordinate a worldwide release. We can debut the film here in Paris first, and the rest of the world a few weeks later so the dates are far more closer together," he explained.

"That would be lovely," she commented, her pulse jumping.

"Good night, _Marie_ , and congratulations," he said.

"Good night," she answered, hanging up the phone. She stared at it for a while, wondering how Xavier could possibly have pledged the support of his Ministry to her films after what happened between them last night.

She didn't have time to contemplate it further as the sound of the door being unlocked drew her attention. Placing her phone back down, she took another sip of wine as Matthew came into the apartment.

"Hi," he called, entering the living room.

"How was your workout?" she asked, turning around and smiling at him.

"Fine. How was shopping?" he asked, coming over to her and giving her a quick kiss.

"You'll be pleased to know that I kept myself under control. I didn't even buy anything," she informed him.

"A rare unicorn, indeed," he chuckled, going over to sit down on the sofa.

"Matthew, I need to tell you something. It's about what happened last night," she blurted out, slowly going over and sitting down next to him.

"Oh?" he answered carefully, looking at her curiously.

She nodded and took a deep breath, searching for words. "The private party was to celebrate the premiere amongst our small group, but there was another reason for it – we were attempting to impress Xavier, the Minister for Culture."

"I met him," he nodded.

"Yes, well, Paul and Jean-Paul have been schmoozing him for months. His office controls the tax rebate scheme in France. Generally, French movies that shoot here are given tax credits. International films, however, receive considerably more support. The problem with _Orlena_ and _Duplicity_ is that they aren't considered strictly French films because some of the scenes are in English, but they aren't considered international films either because they're produced by a French studio," she continued, speaking quickly.

"That seems rather ridiculous," he commented.

"It is," she nodded. "Anyway, the Minister has it in his discretion to still award rebates. It's not an entirely transparent process, or completely sanctioned by the government either, but there is quite a lot at stake. For these two films, it would mean an additional 30 million euros."

He blinked. "That's not small."

"No, it's not. What's more, Jean-Paul pledged to put those funds into expanding distribution worldwide. If we could convince Xavier to grant us the rebates, it would mean putting the films on far more screens that we did with _The Muse_. It would mean a proper marketing effort, a world of difference, if we were to get the money," she emphasized.

"So you had to do the smile and look pretty thing for the Minister. Fair enough. How did that go?" he asked.

She swallowed and averted her eyes for a second. "Well, Xavier wanted terms for his support."

"Terms?" he echoed.

"Yes, terms," she nodded.

"He wanted you as part of the bargain, didn't he?" he asked, his voice hard.

She nodded, unable to speak.

"And what did you do?" he questioned.

She met his cold eyes. "I had a plan. I was hoping to trap him into propositioning me, and use that as leverage to gain his support without things going too far."

He frowned. "All right. What happened?"

"He did admit that he wanted me," she cringed slightly. "But when I refused and tried to push him to support us, he resisted. He said that if I exposed him, I would never work again in France, that Paul and Jean-Paul would abandon me, and that I'd be stuck with nowhere to go. I still refused, and that was it. I left."

He eyed her suspiciously, taking in her account.

She watched him, not daring to speak.

"You left, and came home," he stated.

Her heart clenched. "Yes."

"When you told me that you needed me last night, that was after you came from seeing him?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Did he touch you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I rejected his offer and he didn't try anything. He did attempt to change my mind, but he didn't do anything improper, not physically, I mean."

"I see," he said slowly. "And why didn't you tell me any of this last night?"

"I just couldn't talk about it," she whispered, her eyes pleading with him. "I tried to turn the tables, but it all went pear shaped. I thought I knew how to get what I wanted without compromising myself, but it didn't work. I spent the drive home thinking about all that I'd lost, and when I got back, I didn't want to think about anything anymore. I just wanted to forget about all of it."

"When you came to bed, I thought something was off," he admitted. "Something about your voice, it didn't sound right. I didn't think much of it at the time, but it's bothered me all day."

She nodded. "I was a mess. I needed to escape, get away."

"You needed a distraction," he retorted.

She closed her eyes at his accusation and nodded her head.

"30 million euros for a night of sex with you," he mused aloud. "I supposed that's flattering, in a perverse way."

She looked at him with wide eyes, but nodded eventually. "I suppose, yes."

"You say he tried to change your mind. How?" he enquired.

Alarm bells blared in her head, but she pushed on. "He said he had plans for me. I wouldn't be just a one-time liaison for him. He wanted to have me as his mistress, and in return, he would support my movies – not just these two – but others, as well."

"His mistress," he frowned. "And I suppose that would make him your benefactor, your most generous supporter."

"Yes," she replied quietly. "He has great ambitions, and he promised to carry me along on his rise."

"But you turned him down," he noted.

She nodded. "I did."

"Were you ever tempted?" he asked, his blue eyes boring into her.

"Yes," she whispered, bracing for the explosion.

"When?" he demanded.

She blinked, tears welling in her eyes despite her determination not to cry. "I never wanted him. I planned to reject him all along. But, when he didn't cower, and when he threatened my career, and when he told me that he would make me a star again, a part of me…a part of me thought about what it would be like. I thought about all that I'd been through and how I could make all the shit just go away with one choice. I've tried my entire life to do the right thing, always believing that it would pay off in the end, only to be passed over and judged unfairly again and again. For one moment, I just dared to think about how this one choice could change everything."

She shut her eyes and grit her teeth as a sob whimpered in her throat.

"But you chose to come home, rather than give in to him," he said.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, her breath catching as he reached out and took her hand.

"Matthew," she breathed. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head. "I don't like that you played this game. I don't like that you took the risk of trying to trap that bastard. I don't like that he propositioned you, and I don't like that you didn't tell me anything when you got home."

She nodded, her pulse racing.

He took a deep breath, looking down at their joined hands before finding her worried eyes.

"You did the right thing, in the end. You did the right thing, despite having many reasons not to. You are forced to deal with issues and dilemmas that I never have to even think about. I don't like what happened last night, but I am glad that you made the right choice," he said.

She let out a ragged breath. "I should have told you right away, and I shouldn't have used you, that was cruel, but I…"

"You don't need to worry about that," he snorted, shaking his head.

She frowned. "What?"

He reached up and framed her face with his hands. "You came home, you were in distress, and the only thing that you wanted to do was make love to me. I take that as a compliment."

She huffed in disbelief. "I wanted to forget myself. I took advantage of you."

"You felt the only way to make yourself feel better was to seduce me. Again, that's quite flattering," he nodded. "Taking advantage would imply that you tricked me into sleeping with you, and my darling, I can assure you that I do not need to ever be duped into making love to you."

She rolled her eyes. "You're not supposed to be taking this so well."

"Oh? I shouldn't be?" he questioned.

"No! You should be angry, disappointed, something!" she exclaimed.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

She sighed into his mouth, her hands reaching up to massage his wrists.

"I am angry with these fuckers who used you. I am disappointed that you were put in that position. I am convinced that there must be a better way forward for your career. A part of me is mad that you took on such a task, but given your circumstances, it's not entirely beyond the pale," he shrugged, moving his hands down to massage her shoulders.

"But you don't condone it, surely?" she questioned.

"Of course, I don't!" he scoffed. "Mary, I love you. You're my wife. I tried to control you before and we broke up because of it. I won't do that again. You can make your own decisions, and the consequences of those decisions will be what they will be. I trust you not to cheat on me."

"I don't want anyone else!" she cried, the tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't know if I'll ever be this woman that you think I am, but I want to believe that I can be."

"You already are," he smiled, wiping her tears. "What I am right now, though, is hungry."

She laughed through her tears and kissed him.

"You're not to be let off, though," he warned. "We're going to make a decision, as a couple, on what the next steps in our careers will be, and later tonight, you are going to help me forget about all of this for a while."

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yes, husband."

"I like the sound of that," he smiled cheekily, kissing her quickly before getting up from the sofa. "I'm going to run out and grab a few things."

"I'll get started on the salad," she smiled, wiping her eyes.

"Excellent idea," he nodded, heading for the foyer. "Well, I suppose _Duplicity_ may be your last movie here."

"Maybe, although what's strange is that Jean-Paul called just now and said that Xavier still agreed to give us the rebates," she stated. "I can't imagine why."

He frowned at her in confusion. "Hmm. That is bizarre. Why the change of heart? Actually, forget it. What's important is that your films will get proper backing. Let's focus on the good news."

"Yes, let's. Right now, I'm some sort of saviour. They think I convinced him to pledge the funds," she shrugged.

"Just so long as they don't think you're available for further convincing in the future," he replied.

"I'm going to make that very clear," she nodded.

He put on his shoes and left the apartment to go shop for groceries.

She grabbed her phone and headed to the kitchen. Before getting started on the salad, she scrolled through her music playlist looking for the right song to play. Cooking always seemed more fun with music on.

Her phone screen lit up with a call suddenly, and if she was surprised by the call, she was absolutely flabbergasted by the caller.

"Hello," she answered cautiously.

" _Marie_ ," Xavier greeted her. "I hope I am not interrupting."

"I'm about to start on dinner," she replied. "Jean-Paul called me earlier."

"So he gave you the news," he stated.

"Yes, I was surprised," she admitted. "Why did you change your mind?"

"I didn't change my mind," he answered casually. "I was undecided up until your visit last night. After spending time getting to know you better, I decided that these films are not only a credit to France, but that there is value in having you represent us in worldwide markets."

She could barely believe she was hearing him correctly. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome. I am looking forward to seeing more of your work. I hope you come to understand that you do belong here in France, and there is great opportunity for you," he remarked.

"I do, yes," she acknowledged.

"Well, I wanted to tell you myself that I have agreed to the rebate applications. I look forward to more premieres with you," he stated.

"Of course," she said.

"One other thing, _Marie_. As you were so kind to be direct with me last night, allow me to do the same now. My interest in you has not changed. My plans for you still remain. Do not be concerned. I do not need to force myself on a woman. I will not pressure you. You owe me no obligation over this. What was discussed last night can be left there, and our business with the rebates is now complete. The next time we see each other, we are colleagues and acquaintances. However, I believe that you and I would be a formidable team. In time, I think that you will see it, too. Good night, _Marie_."

He hung up before she could reply.


	14. Chapter 14

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 2, 2018**

"Well, I wanted to tell you myself that I have agreed to the rebate applications. I look forward to more premieres with you," he stated.

"Of course," she said.

"One other thing, _Marie_. As you were so kind to be direct with me last night, allow me to do the same now. My interest in you has not changed. My plans for you still remain. Do not be concerned. I do not need to force myself on a woman. I will not pressure you. You owe me no obligation over this. What was discussed last night can be left there, and our business with the rebates is now complete. The next time we see each other, we are colleagues and acquaintances. However, I believe that you and I would be a formidable team. In time, I think that you will see it, too. Good night, _Marie_."

He hung up before she could reply.

 **Chapter 14:**

 **Le Restaurant de La Gare, 16e arrondissement, Paris, France, November 11, 2018**

"Merci, _Marie_! Merci!"

"De rien," Mary smiled, nodding to the two women who just took a selfie with her. They scurried back to their table. She reached for her mimosa and took an easy sip.

"You're popular this afternoon," Anna noted, taking a bite of her croissant.

"So it would seem," Mary smiled, stabbing her fork into a piece of cantaloupe. "People actually know who I am from _Orlena_ now, rather than _Paladin_. It's only taken two years."

"I shouldn't be surprised. You've got the number one movie in the country," Anna noted with a smile. "And a slew of positive reviews on top of that."

Mary shrugged, though her smile remained. "The response has been lovely – so far – but that's more because of Paul, really. Still, it's doing far better than _The Muse_ at the same point. Hopefully, this bodes well for _Duplicity_."

"And beyond that?" Anna asked. "He'll ask you what your plans are, surely?"

"At some point," Mary replied. "For now, _Orlena_ was just released and there's another film to deal with in the New Year. I'm not eager to get back to work just yet."

"You're not eager to get back to work, or you're not eager to get back to work here?" Anna questioned.

"Both," Mary answered, staring at her plate. "Matthew wants to sort out our plans, and for once, I'm inclined to agree with him. It isn't as though I have any other offers at the moment, but perhaps I should take some time to see what's out there, rather than rush into another project with Paul."

"I expect Paul will want to lock you down sooner, rather than later," Anna offered.

"Jean-Paul and Xavier, as well, most likely," Mary rolled her eyes. "If Paul's next film is promising, I'll consider it, but I'm not desperate to win his favour anymore. Looking back, I'm glad we came to France when we did. I've done three films, and I was the lead in all of them. Now, I should explore what else is out there. I need to see whether _Orlena_ has drawn any attention in the States, and there's Matthew's next movie to consider as well."

"I'm all for that," Anna smiled.

"Of course, you are," Mary laughed. "Your baby is being born in Toronto. You can't wait to get back."

"That's a good seven months away still," Anna huffed. "I just think it would be nice to work in Toronto again, that's all. It is my home, but it was yours for years, too, and Matthew's."

"No, you're right," Mary agreed. "Paris has been good to me, but I came here to build myself back up, and with any luck, I've made some progress now."

"You could almost say that Paul owes you now," Anna remarked.

"That's true, though he would never admit to it," Mary agreed. "Anyway, I'm going to take my time, and he'll just have to accept it."

They continued eating as the bustle of another Sunday brunch at one of Paris' busiest restaurants swirled all around them.

"What about Matthew? He must be looking at scripts himself now that his movie is done with," Anna remarked.

Mary nodded. "He's just relieved that Sony liked his latest cut. Molesley sent him a batch of films to consider, but he hasn't gotten to them yet. He's still very much in demand. _The Disciple_ was quietly a solid hit for him. Sony's made a small fortune off of him already."

"Will he at least take a break from directing for a bit? The first try seemed to wear him out," Anna said.

"I couldn't tell you. He would prefer to just focus solely on acting for this next one, I think, but now that he knows he can do more, he might want the larger challenge. It comes down to whether he has a story to tell first. We're off until January. Between now and then, he might be inspired."

Anna nodded and took a sip of water.

"I'm happy that his career is going well, and for the first time in a while, I'm cautiously optimistic about my own," Mary continued. "With Xavier supporting our films, everyone's on my side. It's been years since those ridiculous scandals with Henry and Dad. Hopefully, I'll be judged on my actual acting from now on."

"You'll need Lady Rosamund to renew her efforts on your behalf," Anna replied.

Mary nodded. "With _Orlena_ now out, she has something to pitch to the studios. Let's hope she can be convincing."

 **Creative Artists Agency, Midtown Manhattan, New York, USA, November 14, 2018**

Rosamund rolled her eyes, staring at her computer screen as some deplorable American pop song played over her headset. She had been on hold for the past ten minutes, and expected to be for ten more. The perky assistant had come back on the line twice already to ask her if she would rather leave a voicemail, and she had crisply declined both times. Voicemails could easily be ignored and left unreturned. All of her previous ones had been. No, she was going to get through if she had to wait all afternoon, and if she still didn't, she would be on the next flight to Los Angeles.

She idly played with her pearl necklace as she waited, her eyes glancing yet again over the box office numbers for _Orlena_ displayed prominently on her screen. The past two years had been a struggle. Mary was family, but not her only client. Navigating through the scandals that had plagued her niece's career was unbelievably frustrating, not least because there was very little Rosamund could do about it. Once the American studios turned their backs, Rosamund could only wait and hope that Mary's work in France would bring her back up. She couldn't fight to get Mary into meetings and auditions without proof that audiences still liked her, and that the scandals had been left behind. The agency wanted her to develop her other clients, so she did, while waiting for Paul Chaput's films to come out so she could show the studios that Mary was still a bankable star.

 _The Muse_ was a positive start, but so few people outside of Europe – audiences and studio executives alike – had seen it. That made it easier to dismiss. With _Orlena_ , Rosamund took a more proactive approach. Rather than wait for a future North American release, she made sure that copies were sent to some of her contacts at the studios, and now she was doggedly following-up.

Her eyes wandered over to the small portrait of her mother, perched on the corner of her desk. Violet Crawley's sharp eyes and raised chin seemed to glare back at her, her lips pursed in displeasure. This was actually one of the nicer photos she had of her mother. They hadn't posed for family photos in years, and the two of them hardly ever took photos together. For a while, Sybil made it a point to take a photo of all of the Crawley women together every year, but Mother wouldn't smile in those either, and once her Alzheimer's took hold, she stopped taking photos altogether.

Rosamund sighed and held her mother's stare. It was almost a year now that she'd been gone, time having done nothing to diminish the devastating loss. They were never affectionate with each other, classically British in their stoicism until the bitter end. Still, Mother had brought her up, almost exclusively, and she took after her in spades. So rare was Violet Crawley's approval granted that Rosamund never even sought it out. Now, though, after her death, moments where she had appeared indifferent or ambivalent took on an entirely different view.

Mother was adamant that Rosamund and Robert would not follow her into the acting business. She discouraged them from even taking drama classes in school. Yet, when Rosamund told her she wanted to be an agent after graduating from university, she said very little. Her blithe comments over the years actually disguised cautious warnings and sage bits of advice. Most importantly, Mother trusted her with Mary's career, a prized treasure to be sure. The granddaughter of Violet Crawley, and the daughter of Cora Levinson, was always going to face an uphill battle to be taken seriously. By allowing Rosamund to guide Mary along, particularly in those early years in Canada when no one knew who she was, Mother was giving her endorsement, her trust that Rosamund was the one to shepherd Mary forward.

Their last moment together had been quiet and calm. Sitting at her mother's bedside, Rosamund held tight to her hand, the two of them looking at each other, an entire understanding passing between them. It felt strange to tell Mother that she loved her, so she didn't. A soft kiss and a heartfelt thank you was all she could offer. A squeeze of her hand and a slow nod was all she got back. It was more than enough.

If only she were still here, Rosamund thought. It would be rather hilarious to see some pompous ass of a studio executive try and hold his ground against Violet Crawley.

"Rosamund, hi."

She blinked as the pop music was replaced by a real, live, human voice. "Kevin."

"Sorry to keep you waiting. It's been crazy over here. What's up?" he asked, his voice already sounding distracted and impatient.

"I wanted to give you a call and see if you had a chance to watch _Orlena_ yet? It's doing very well overseas, you know. Number one in six different countries," she noted, keeping her tone light.

"Yeah, I saw it. Mary was good," he replied.

She leaned forward. "She was. They love her over there."

"I especially liked the love scene with that model – Aline, was it? Yeah, that was really well done," he added. "The one at the beginning was good, too. The one at the end, not so much. I'm not big on the older man-younger woman thing."

She rolled her eyes. "Beyond that, I thought she did an excellent job of showing the emotional journey of the character. Paul Chaput offered her the role without an audition, you know? After directing her in _The Muse_ , he was so impressed he wanted to work with her again, and they have a third film due out next year."

"I heard," he acknowledged. "That's good. The more she works, the more people will start thinking of her as a serious actress again."

"One should hope," she said tightly. "You know, a while ago you told me that you had reservations about her ability to carry a film. Well, she's now done two since then for a well-known director and moved good numbers."

"The latest one has good numbers. The first one, not so much, and that's all in Europe anyway. We don't know how _Orlena_ will do here," he countered.

"Well, if you're any judge, it should do well," she retorted.

"One can hope," he answered. "Get to it, Rosamund. What do you want?"

"You know well enough," she replied. "I want Mary to get a fair shot. I don't want the door slammed in my face when I try to get her a meeting, or an audition. If someone is going to hold the past against her, at least let them see her perform first. I'm confident that her talent will win out in the end."

There was a lengthy pause as he considered his answer.

"I'll tell you what, Rosamund. I'll give the word that Mary can be up for consideration again on our projects. No promises that she'll get anything, but you can put her name in again, as long as she does something for me," he stated eventually.

"Such as?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Get her husband to take a meeting with us," he informed her.

She frowned. "Matthew? What does this have to do with him?"

"We've been trying to line something up with him for over a year," he advised. "Went through his agent, sent scripts, passed along messages from producers and directors; none of it has worked. He keeps sending his regrets and whatever, but we can't get him on the phone, let alone in the same room."

"Well, he has been rather busy, from what I understand," she said slowly. "He's been focused on his first directing effort for the past while."

"Yeah. He was able to somehow land Rooney Mara for it, too. Sony picked it up, I heard. Look, Rosamund, I know you aren't his agent, but pass the message along to Mary. Tell her to get him to find time for us and I'll put her back on our radar. Like I said, if no one wants her, that's not my problem, but you'll get your fair shot like everyone else," he finished.

"Done. I'll let them both know," she nodded.

"You do that. Bye," he hung up quickly.

She hung up and stared over at her mother's photo once more, going over the call again. She got what she wanted, in a strange way, but the condition requested by the studio was bizarre, to say the least. Why was Matthew freezing out an entire studio? He was hardly in a position to be so particular about his career choices.

Shaking her head, she reached for her mouse and opened up her video call app to ring Mary in France.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 14, 2018**

"It's just a whole lot tighter. We really think it plays better this way, that the emotion is more palpable. Great job, Matthew. Just great."

Matthew smiled and nodded to the grinning studio executive on the monitor of his laptop. Since he had submitted the final cut of _10 Days_ back to Sony, each day was a nervous wait, wondering if the studio would want him to make further changes or not. He had no idea how he would be able to cut anything else. Getting to the latest version had been draining. There wasn't a second of footage that he thought the film could do without. Thankfully, the studio seemed to agree.

"Now we're well past the deadline for Sundance, unfortunately, but we're going to try and put a trailer together to show there anyway. We want to take a different approach with this. Rather than send you to the festival circuit, we'll do an extended trailer – maybe 10 minutes or so – and send that around to build up word of mouth online and in theatres. We're looking at a mid-February release. You know, take advantage of Valentine's Day and all of that."

"Right. Yeah, that's great," Matthew replied, suddenly feeling anxious. February? That was coming up so soon.

"Okay, so leave it with us. I'll get you some mock-ups of the posters and promo materials sometime next week and we should have a trailer for you to look over by next month. You get final say, of course, but we'll let our people handle things at first. We can't have you do everything, right?"

Matthew chuckled. "Sounds good."

"Good. Good. Oh, one more thing, we sent clips from _The Disciple_ around to the Academy members and took out some ad space in _Variety_ and the usual papers and websites. We've gotten some decent feedback so far. We'll let you know how that goes."

Matthew blinked in surprise. "Oh. Okay. Thanks."

"No problem. Since you're going to all those awards shows to present anyway, you may as well be up for an award yourself, right?"

Matthew nodded slowly. "Sure. Yeah."

"Great. Talk soon."

Matthew mumbled a goodbye and hung up the call. He sat back in his chair, staring at the screen in confusion.

"How was the call?" Alex asked, coming into the living room eating an apple.

"Good, yeah, fine," Matthew answered, turning to look at him. "They want to release the movie in February."

"For Valentine's Day. Sure. Makes sense," Alex nodded, sitting down on the sofa.

"Yeah. Yeah, it does," Matthew stammered.

"Something wrong?" Alex asked, looking at his friend in amusement.

"It just seems so soon, that's all," Matthew noted.

"They want to push before the blockbuster season comes," Alex noted. "If you go into March or April, you risk limiting your run as theatres clear screens for the next big budget movie. If they sit back, you're waiting for the Fall. Your film is going to depend on word-of-mouth and appealing to specific audiences, so it's better to get it out and let it build momentum."

Matthew nodded.

"Anything else?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, he mentioned that he sent a clip from _The Disciple_ around for awards consideration," Matthew answered.

"Cool," Alex remarked easily.

"I guess," Matthew mumbled.

"You don't want to be up for awards?" Alex questioned.

"No, it's not that. I just never thought that my performance was worthy of consideration, that's all," Matthew explained.

Alex laughed. "You might want to get used to it. You're a name now. You're an Oscar winner. Everything you do is going to be viewed in a different context. Obviously the studio wants to push you as an actor who consistently does great work. It reflects well on them, and they think that by paying you particular attention, you'll be loyal to them in return. It's not that big of a deal for them to send a reel around for awards season. Movies that are total shit still do it. It's more about studio politics than it is about actual merit."

"Great. Thanks," Matthew said wryly.

They both looked up as the door opened and Mary came striding in.

"Hello, darling," Matthew smiled.

She didn't return his greeting. Instead, she looked over at Alex.

"Alex, would you mind going home to your wife? I'm going to kill my husband now and I prefer some privacy," Mary declared, glaring over at Matthew.

Alex and Matthew shared a pointed look.

"Yeah. Sure," Alex replied, getting up from the sofa. He looked over at Matthew again before heading out the door and closing it behind him.

"Something the matter?" Matthew asked cautiously.

"Very much so, yes," she said coldly, tossing her bag and coat on a chair and crossing her arms over her front. "I had a rather interesting call with Aunt Rosamund just now."

He nodded. "All right. And?"

"And she told me that she's received decent feedback from some of the studios about _Orlena_. She says she may be able to get me back into some meetings and auditions in the States. The odds aren't necessarily in my favour yet, but at least I'm being given a chance to compete for roles again."

His eyes widened. "That's great."

"It's something, yes," she acknowledged. "Strangely, though, she told me that she had a rather surprising conversation with Kevin over at Universal about me. You remember him, don't you?"

He frowned. "You may have mentioned him at some point."

"I'm quite sure that I did," she nodded. "He was one of the more vocal executives against me when the scandals broke. I was up for several projects and he pulled me from all of them."

"Right. Him. So, has he now come to his senses finally?" he asked.

"In part, yes," she replied. "He said that he would allow me to audition for their films again, on one condition."

"And what was that?" he enquired.

She arched her eyebrow. "He wants me to convince my husband to take a meeting with them."

He blinked. "What?"

She looked at him pointedly. "It seems that they've been chasing after you for over a year, but for some reason or another, they just haven't been able to connect with you. Apparently, they've sent you scripts, given you first shot at a number of roles, and even had producers and directors contact you personally, all for naught."

"Well, I've been rather busy," he mumbled.

"Oh, for God's sake, Matthew!" she rolled her eyes and threw her arms up in frustration. "You ignored one of the biggest studios in the world just because of how they treated me? How could you be so stupid?"

He frowned. "I didn't ignore them! I simply didn't prioritize them, that's all."

"A fine distinction," she scoffed. "You've had a brilliant past year, but it's just one year. You can hardly afford to be so discerning in your decisions, particularly for such misguided reasons!"

"I would hardly call them misguided," he answered. "I owe no obligation to Universal, or anyone else. I've showed them the same courtesy that they've shown you, that's all."

"Darling, if you sought retribution against every studio that wronged me, you'd have no one left to work for," she snapped. "You can't use your career to carry out some sort of vendetta. You've got to be far smarter than that!"

He shook his head. "That's a bit melodramatic. You were in talks with Universal, as well as MGM and Paramount. Those studios were the ones that were most against you. Rosamund wasn't able to make any progress with Sony or Lion's Gate, but that doesn't mean they were actually against you, at least not as overtly, anyway. I'm not crusading on your behalf, but I'm not exactly eager to work with Universal at the moment. If they are now changing their view where you're concerned, so much the better."

"And why did you not tell me that you were taking this decision?" she asked.

He smiled ruefully. "Because I knew you would be angry with me, and you'd try and talk me out of it."

"Quite right!" she grumbled. "So we'll both end up shunned by Hollywood. Will that satisfy you?"

"If we're together, I don't really care who likes us and who doesn't," he shrugged.

"You make it sound so easy to survive without them," she hissed, looking away. "I assure you that it isn't."

"Mary," he called, rising to his feet and coming over to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, compelling her to look up at him.

"I don't care about whether I'm a famous actor, or not. I don't care if I'm an Armani model. My career has already been more than I ever imagined it would be. Being your husband is the most important thing in the world to me. What possible satisfaction could I take in working for a studio with such a low opinion of you? It's a small thing, but it's important to me that I support you somehow," he told her earnestly.

"You can support me by managing your career properly, by making sound decisions based on what's best for you, and not on emotion and sentiment. What if one of these projects that you rejected ends up being a huge hit? How angry will you be then to have turned it down?" she demanded.

"Actually, I read them. They're all rubbish, really," he replied.

"Matthew," she scolded him.

"You don't get to choose what decisions I make in my career," he said firmly, his blue eyes holding her still. "As my wife, and as someone whose opinion I greatly respect, you get to have a say. That's all. Everything that I do from now on, both personally and professionally, I take you into consideration. Where I could be shooting, how far apart we'll be, for how long, all of it matters. The money, the prestige, it means nothing if I can't have a proper marriage with the woman I love. That's it, and nothing you say will change my mind."

She sighed, her frown turning to a look of concern and worry. "I just don't want to be responsible for costing you anything. I don't want you to lose out on any opportunities because of me. I don't want to be the reason that your future isn't as bright as it could be."

He smiled. "My darling, without you, I don't have a future, not one worth living anyway."

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "That's such a line."

"And it's working, isn't it?" he smirked, leaning in and kissing her.

She hummed against him, opening her mouth and sliding her tongue against his. Eventually, she relaxed into his arms, hugging him and resting her head against his shoulder and neck.

"So, I'll take a meeting with them, and that will get you back in the mix?" he asked.

"According to Aunt Rosamund, yes," she confirmed.

"I know you hate being beholden to others," he continued, running his hand up and down her back. "Try not to think of it as me getting you back into consideration. Think of it more as just a hoop they're making you jump through."

She sighed and kissed the pulse point beneath his jaw lightly. "I think I've learned since being in France that nothing truly happens in this business without other people being involved. No one makes it entirely on their own. If I am to owe someone for helping me, who better than you? I can certainly think of far worse men, rather."

He chuckled. "Oh, I don't know. We haven't actually discussed my terms yet."

She laughed and leaned back, arching her eyebrow at him playfully. "As if I couldn't guess what they will entail."

"Good. Then we're agreed," he teased.

She rolled her eyes and took his hand. "Wine and a light snack first. I expect I'll need my strength to discuss these terms of yours."

He laughed and let her pull him down the hall to the kitchen.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, November 18, 2018**

"Everyone ready?" Sybil asked, her smiling face filling up a quarter of the tablet screen.

"Ready," Mary confirmed, sipping her wine.

"I miss wine," Anna complained, taking a drink of her green smoothie.

"Don't worry, Anna. It tastes so much better after the baby's born, believe me," Sybil replied, sipping her own wine. "You appreciate it so much more."

Edith laughed.

With the three sisters living in different countries, they kept up their regular video chats. It was slightly easier now with Mary having wrapped on her films and having more free time. Anna often joined in, such as tonight when Matthew and Alex were out playing basketball and Mary came over for dinner.

"Where's your wine, Edith?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow at her sister.

Edith grinned and shook her head. "No wine for me tonight."

"No wine for just tonight, or no wine for a while longer?" Sybil probed.

Edith nodded. "For about the next two years at least, actually."

Sybil squealed and applauded heartily. "Lady Hexham! Are you for real?"

Mary and Anna shared a knowing smile.

"Yes, I'm pregnant," Edith confirmed. "About four weeks now."

"Congratulations," Mary smiled genuinely. "That's wonderful."

"Thank you," Edith replied. "I just told Mum and Dad yesterday. They weren't nearly as happy as when Sybil told them she was pregnant, but they put on a good show of it."

"Please," Sybil scoffed. "They're elated, I'm sure."

"They must be," Mary agreed. "After all, Sybil failed in her duty to give them a grandson, so you've given them hope."

"Fuck off," Sybil huffed. "They can blame Tom for that."

"I'm sure that they do," Mary teased. "For that, and other things."

They all laughed.

"So we're about four weeks apart or so, aren't we, Anna?" Edith noted. "It'll be such a relief to have someone to lean on during all of this."

"I'll need all the help I can get," Anna agreed. "Are you going to deliver in London or up north?"

"Definitely in London," Edith replied firmly. "There's a hospital in Newcastle that's just a few minutes away from Brancaster, but Bertie doesn't want to use them. I was quite relieved at that."

"The heir to the Marquess of Hexham born in London? How progressive of you both," Mary joked.

"I don't know if it'll be a boy," Edith shrugged. "Girls seem to run in his family almost as much as they do in ours."

"There's nothing wrong with having a girl," Sybil retorted. "It's not as if this will be your only child."

"Easy there," Mary warned. "Just because you're planning to have an entire brood of Celtic ruffians doesn't mean Edith has to follow suit. Leave her be."

"Fine. Let's talk about when you're going to join the party, then," Sybil fired back, smirking at her older sister.

Anna laughed.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Sybil. I literally just got back from my honeymoon."

"Yeah, you're right. There's plenty of time. Besides, Aunt Rosamund is probably pitching a reality show about you getting pregnant – Mary and Matthew Plus One?" Sybil suggested cheekily.

"Oh!" Edith laughed.

"That isn't happening, however I'd rather be paid to go through the experience than give away all the sordid details for free to anyone who asks like you do," Mary countered.

Anna smiled at that.

Sybil rolled her eyes.

"So, yes, I'm pregnant," Edith repeated.

Mary sighed and gave Sybil a wry smile in truce.

"That's wonderful, darling, really," Sybil nodded to Edith. "Tell us all about it. How are you feeling?"

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, December 3, 2018**

"Have you heard of Damocles?" Matthew asked, looking over at Mary reclined on the sofa.

"Damocles…" she repeated, narrowing her eyes in thought. "Wasn't he the poor fool from Greek mythology who kept pushing that boulder up the hill over and over again?"

He frowned. "That was Sisyphus."

"Oh, right. Was he the one who flew too close to the sun and fell from the sky?" she asked.

"No, that was Icarus," he replied.

"Ah, yes. Icarus. How about the one who slayed the Minotaur, then?" she continued.

He rolled his eyes impatiently. "Again, no. That was Theseus."

"Was it? Strange. Well, then he must be the one who killed his father and had sex with his mother," she concluded.

"That was Oedipus. Honestly, Mary!" he groaned. "You're doing this on purpose!"

She looked over at him and arched her eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. "Damocles, a lowly courtier who is gifted the chance to trade places with his King, Dionysius, which he eagerly accepts. Upon sitting on the throne, surrounded by wealth and every opulent object his heart could possibly desire, he discovers that a huge sword has been suspended above his head, hung by a single strand of horsehair. Living in constant fear of death, he begs Dionysius to allow him to take his old life back."

He grinned. "Yes, that's the one. So you do know of him."

"We private school girls know our Latin and Greek mythology cold, darling," she smiled. "What about him?"

He looked at his laptop screen. "I've just been reading about him a bit. His story sounds like it might make a decent film."

She sat up and looked at him curiously. "You think so? It's rather brief, isn't it?"

He chuckled. "Obviously it would need to be developed beyond just the one scene, yes, but I like the overall theme. The naïve man dazzled by money and splendour, envious of someone who is so far above him in class, and not realizing that great wealth and power can also attract danger."

"Let me guess, you would be portraying poor Damocles, taken from a simple life and suddenly thrust into the lap of luxury," she offered.

He smiled and nodded. "That would suit me more than playing the Dionysius role, to be sure. I don't know about setting it in ancient times, however. Probably best to make a modern version but use the original character names, like what Baz Luhrmann did with Romeo and Juliet."

"Are you sure that's wise? How many men named Damocles and Dionysius do you know?" she remarked.

"That's the beauty of it, though," he said. "People will have some vague curiosity about the names, which will draw them in. Once they see the story unfold, they won't even care what the characters are called."

"And is there a role for me in this modern interpretation of yours?" she asked.

"Of course," he confirmed, smirking at her. "You would be the beautiful woman who has a torrid affair with Damocles, only to find out he isn't the man you thought he was."

She rolled her eyes. "So predictable. You're imagining our love scene taking place inside a fancy sports car, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "One of them, yes. Another would be on the terrace of the penthouse of a skyscraper."

She threw a cushion at him, striking him flush in the head.

"Hey!" he laughed, recoiling from the blow.

"That's what the genius writer and director has conjured for me, is it? Going down on you in the front seat of a Ferrari while you race down the motorway?" she snapped, getting up off the sofa and stomping over to him.

"I prefer Lamborghinis, rather. The seats are lower to the ground," he joked, laughing as she reached him and slapped his arm.

"I'll show you lower to the ground!" she roared, tickling his sides and hitting his chest.

"Now is that any way to treat your director and co-star?" he laughed, getting up from his chair and grabbing hold of her. He picked her up off the ground and tickled her with his fingers.

"All that talk about wanting to work together! All you really want is to have sex with me on-screen!" she hissed, laughing despite her resistance as he carried her back to the sofa.

"Well, you must admit that we are quite good at that. I won an Oscar for it, didn't I?" he chuckled, lying down on the sofa and taking her with him. "I'm literally an award-winning lover."

She relaxed in his hold and didn't pull back when he kissed her soundly. "You won awards for your fake lovemaking only, I'll remind you."

"Are you saying that the real thing isn't worthy of recognition?" he asked, running his fingers along her jaw as he kept kissing her.

"Mmm, I suppose I'll need to take it under advisement," she replied, turning her head to allow him access to her pale throat.

"Maybe you prefer another on-screen romp with Aline, or Jimmy? Maybe Paul will put you with both of them in his next film," he snarled, slipping his hand beneath her shirt and caressing her bare skin.

"Don't be jealous," she whispered, hooking her leg around his and drawing him closer. "You love watching me have sex in my movies."

"Hardly," he complained between kisses.

"I disagree," she replied, reaching down and unzipping his jeans. "It bothers you, which is why after every premiere you seem to be rather aggressive."

"Are you saying you do it on purpose?" he questioned, groaning as she reached into his shorts and took hold of him. "You look forward to these scenes putting me in a state?"

"I'm a professional," she scoffed, nipping at his shoulder. "I do my job, that's all. If it just so happens that my husband feels the need to give me a good hard fuck as a result, well, that's beyond my control, isn't it?"

"Are you saying that's what you want right now?" he pressed, fumbling with her skirt.

"A Lady doesn't speak of such things," she noted.

"What does a Lady think about?" he growled, yanking her skirt and panties off.

"Nothing she would ever admit to," she replied, closing her eyes and smiling as she rolled her hips against him. "A Lady would never say she wanted her husband to strip her naked and make her take all of him down her throat."

"Mary," he grunted, kissing her hard.

"A Lady would never say she wanted her husband to make her ride him like a dirty slut," she hissed between kisses.

He breathed heavily and kissed her again.

"A Lady would never say 'fuck me, darling'," she moaned, tearing his shirt open.

"I'll just have to use my imagination, then," he rasped, pulling her on top of him.

"Oh yes, Matthew!" she cried as he thrust inside of her.

 **La Table du Lancaster, 8e arrondissement, Paris, France, December 7, 2018**

"I hope that tonight's dinner didn't cause you any inconvenience at home," Xavier smiled, taking a sip of his wine.

"Why would it?" Mary replied, arching her eyebrow and putting her wine glass down. "Do you think I'm afraid of having dinner with you?"

"No, never," he smiled. "I don't know if your husband would approve, however."

"He doesn't approve. He's not exactly a fan of yours after what you tried when I was last at your home," she noted.

"And yet here you are," he nodded.

"Matthew trusts me," she said pointedly. "He knows I must still associate with Paul, and with you, to ensure that _Orlena_ and _Duplicity_ have the support that we want. Part of our jobs is to socialize with executives, producers, directors and so on."

"That pleases me," he commented.

"Don't be so smug," she warned. "I'm here to maintain our association, not to change the nature of it."

"Not yet," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes and took a bite of her sea bass.

"Paul tells me that you are considering having another go in America?" he enquired.

"I've not made any decisions yet," she replied. "I'm going to take some meetings and see what's on offer. It was never my plan to remain in France indefinitely."

"Plans change," he replied. "It would be a pity for you to take such a large step backwards."

"Backwards? How so?" she asked.

"To go back to America is to be another face in the crowd," he shrugged. "Another number. Part of the cattle, hoping not to be culled as you go through your auditions."

She frowned. "As opposed to how I would be treated here?"

"Exactly," he nodded. "Here you are already established, with the support of a renowned director, a major studio…"

"And the Minister for Culture," she added.

"And the French people," he smiled. "With my help, your films are going to be shown to the world, _Marie_. There really isn't anything for you over there, nothing that we cannot already provide."

"I'll just have to see for myself," she stated.

"That's fine. You'll be back," he smirked.

She looked at him for a moment as he sliced into his venison.

"Why are you so interested in what I do?" she asked. "We know where we stand now. Shouldn't you be moving on?"

He chuckled, glancing over at her as he chewed his food. "You think that since you turned down my offer, I'll go and find another actress to take your place, do you?"

"It would seem the logical thing to do, rather than waste your time," she commented.

"Contrary to what you might think, I don't do this sort of thing very often at all," he answered. "You said it yourself before. I'm not one for bribes and special arrangements."

She frowned. "But you know that nothing will ever happen between us. Why still occupy yourself with me?"

He smirked. "I'm anxious to see you happy."

She blinked. "I am happy."

"But not as happy as you want to be," he replied. "You came to France because you were out of options for your career, not by choice."

"Perhaps, but much has changed since then," she said.

"But your career is still not where you'd like it to be," he nodded.

"And you think that you can help with that?" she questioned.

"That, and other things," he confirmed.

She frowned. "I love my husband."

"I have no doubt. I love many things in life as well, but that does not stop me from trying to be happier than I already am," he declared.

"What makes you think that you can make me happier than Matthew does?" she demanded.

He smiled. "I didn't say I could. I don't compare myself to anyone. What I do is create a life for myself, and where I see room for improvement, I pursue that. It doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with my current life, or that it makes me any less happy. But I do believe that everyone owes it to themselves to be as happy in life as they possibly can be. It's called the pursuit of happiness, not the stroll of happiness."

She arched her eyebrow. "And you believe that I can be happier than I am."

"It's obvious, isn't it?" he smiled. "You'll see. Jean-Paul and I have discussed how the Los Angeles premiere of _Orlena_ will be carried out, to give France the promotion it deserves. After that, we'll get started on _Duplicity_. When you see what I can do for your career, lining up for auditions in America will seem quite inferior."

She took a sip of wine, watching him closely. His confident smile as he continued eating his dinner was both unnerving and intriguing. "I didn't realize that you would be as involved in the actual business of filmmaking."

"Paul is the director. Jean-Paul and I control the money. He pays to bring the movies to Europe. I help bring them to the world. He is accountable to me, as we are dealing with taxpayer euros. So, I have a say," he explained.

"And if the worldwide distribution is a success, I'll have you to thank," she replied.

"None of it is possible without me, yes," he nodded, taking another bite of his entrée.

"Even if everything goes as well as you say," she began carefully. "That doesn't mean anything will occur between us. You'll have the satisfaction of your rebates resulting in more exposure and positive marketing for France and the French movie industry. I'll have a better career. While we both will benefit, that won't be enough to make you as happy as you want to be, I expect."

He nodded. "Maybe so. Who knows what the future holds? For now, it seems that I'm doing something right. You're here now, and there will be premieres, events and meals in the future that we will attend together. Considering that I did not even know you mere months ago, I seem to be making progress."

She swallowed.

"How is the sea bass?" he asked.

"Delicious," she replied.

 **Mount Sinai Hospital, Toronto, Canada, December 14, 2018**

Anna held on to Alex's hand as the doctor lifted her shirt and placed a towel across her stomach, leaving the lower part of her belly exposed. The gel wasn't nearly as cold as she was expecting, but the sensation was still rather strange.

"Okay, so watch this monitor here, and we should be able to see the baby right away," the doctor informed them, holding up the transducer and nodding towards the large computer screen.

Anna looked over anxiously.

Alex watched her for a moment before looking over himself.

"Here we go," the doctor announced. She placed the transducer on Anna's belly and moved it around slowly.

The monitor lit up immediately with a shifting forms in white and black. The doctor kept moving the transducer to get the best image possible. Finally, she stopped and held the transducer in place.

Alex squinted at the shapes on the screen.

"There you are," the doctor smiled when she finally found a proper angle.

Anna's eyes widened. "Are those…?"

"You're having twins," the doctor confirmed. "Congratulations."

Anna gasped.

Alex grinned, shaking his head in wonder. "Twins."

The doctor nodded and pointed at the display. "They're fraternal, non-identical. They each have their own placenta, as you can see here. The membranes are quite thick, so they're fine, seem to be a good size. We usually have a different ultrasound and a series of tests to confirm everything when we're dealing with twins, but everything looks great so far."

"Twins," Anna muttered.

"Twins," Alex smiled. He leaned over and kissed Anna's forehead.

"Why don't you get cleaned up and I'll go and get my schedule to see when we can get you in for your next appointment," the doctor suggested, putting the transducer away. "We'll send the report to Dr. Ryder and she'll set up your next follow-up with her as well."

With that, she rose from her chair and left the room.

"Oh my God," Anna blurted out, covering her mouth with her hand for a moment before continuing. "We're having twins!"

"It's amazing," Alex nodded, taking the towel and wiping her belly before doing her jeans back up and pulling her shirt down.

"We…we'll need another crib, and double of everything! What about the stroller, and should I change my diet? Maybe there's…" she stammered.

"Love," he said, drawing her attention. "Everything is going to be great."

He kissed her softly, caressing her cheek as she reluctantly kissed him back.

"I was desperate to give you children, and now it seems I'm giving you two all at once!" she smiled in disbelief.

"We're very, very lucky," he nodded. "We have plenty of room. You can remodel the nursery, knock down a wall and make it bigger if you want. We can afford a bigger stroller, two car seats, two of everything. This is great news, love. It's amazing news."

She nodded slowly. "Shit, I'm going to be delivering two babies now."

He laughed and kissed her again. "That's true. Sorry about that."

She shook her head at him ruefully. "This is all your fault. Knocking me up with twins. Jesus."

"Blame me as much as you want," he chuckled, helping her sit up.

"Well, this will be quite the surprise for Mum," she noted.

"I can't wait to see the look on her face," he agreed.

"Careful. She might want to stay longer now," she teased.

He rolled his eyes. "She probably will. My Mom, too. I could build a little shed in the backyard for them."

"Babes!" she scolded him, slapping his chest lightly.

He laughed. "Fine, fine. They can sleep in the basement."

"You'll be in the basement more likely," she warned him.

"No way in hell," he protested. "I'm not letting my wife, or my twins, out of my sight."

She laughed and kissed him before the doctor came back in.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, December 18, 2018**

"We really need to get up, darling," Matthew sighed.

"Mmm, so get up, then," Mary replied, keeping her eyes closed.

"It's rather difficult for me to do so with you lying on top of me," he noted, running his hand up and down her bare back.

"So move me, then," she smirked, still not looking at him.

He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. Turning over gently, he eased her on to her back.

"Ah," he exclaimed in surprise as she wrapped her long legs around him and pulled him on top of her. "Mary!"

"Still want to get out of bed?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.

"You said we were going to look at houses today," he reminded her, his arousal flaring as she rubbed against him.

"Those houses aren't going anywhere," she replied. "We can take another hour or so before we head out, can't we?"

He grunted and kissed her neck, the feel of her breasts against his chest only enflaming him more. "Should I remind you that the other day when I wanted us to have a lie-in, you complained that you had all these appointments that you needed to get to and left me high and dry?"

She laughed and ran her hands down his back and squeezed his bottom. "I seem to recall that my appointments included dress fittings for the Golden Globes and the SAG Awards. If you didn't want me to leave, you shouldn't have gone and gotten yourself nominated again."

He huffed and shifted against her intently, a pleased rumble coming from his throat when he felt her own arousal.

"Go on and have your revenge if you like," she teased. "You can go and leave me wanting now."

"As if I ever would," he growled.

She laughed sultrily before moaning in pleasure as he pushed in slow and deep.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, December 25, 2018**

"Gwampa! Gwampa!"

Everyone smiled at Emma scampering over Robert and holding her arms up expectantly. The Earl gave her a warm smile before picking her up again. The baby squealed in delight as he carried her over to the bookshelf and pointed out different titles.

"Anyone remember Dad ever doing that with any of us?" Edith asked, smirking at her sisters.

"If he did, there's no evidence of it to speak of," Mary replied.

Cora smiled and shook her head at the sight. She sipped her tea and turned back to her daughters gathered around on the sofa and settee before her. Christmas was so much more fun with a baby in the house, and with Edith pregnant, the prospect of the house being filled with children laughing and playing once again warmed her heart.

"How is Anna?" Isobel asked.

"Doing well," Mary nodded. "They're in London at her mum's for Christmas. I invited them here for New Year's, but they're heading back to Toronto. Alex's parents are flying in."

"What are you going to do for an assistant?" Sybil asked. "I imagine her doctor will want her to rest in a few months. Twins are always a bit more of a struggle."

"I don't know," Mary shrugged. "Aunt Rosamund is looking at possible candidates, though no one could replace Anna. Selfishly, I hope I won't have to do without her for too long."

"That is very selfish, yes," Matthew teased, smiling at her.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Excuse me, I'm the one she called first when she found out she was having twins. I'm overjoyed for her as her best friend, but on a professional level, I think I'm allowed to dread losing my assistant."

Edith and Sybil smiled at each other.

"All right, my little lamb, let's leave Grandpa be and go up for your nap, please," Tom called, coming over and holding his arms out to his daughter.

"Gwampa!" Emma whinged, burrowing her head into Robert's neck.

"Crikey," Tom complained.

"Emily! Naptime! Now!" Sybil snapped, getting up from the sofa.

Robert handed the perturbed child over to her parents, who promptly put her down on the floor and guided her out of the library, each of them holding on to one of her hands to help her walk towards the Great Hall.

"Still sure you want one of those?" Mary asked, smirking at Edith.

"Very sure," Edith nodded, sharing a smile with Bertie. "Speaking of which, we should go, too."

Bertie nodded and helped his wife to her feet. Giving their regards, they both left and headed towards the parlour.

"Edith and Bertie play music to the baby every day," Mary explained when she saw Matthew's perplexed expression. "They think it's soothing and beneficial."

"The Mozart effect? I thought that was disproven," Matthew noted, looking towards the doorway.

"It was, but they like doing it," Robert shrugged, returning to his chair. "At least they play proper Classical music, rather than something far worse."

Matthew nodded in understanding and reached for his tea. He shared a smile with his mother as he sipped his Earl Grey. He had spent so many Christmases at Downton Abbey since he was a child. His parents had very small families, so they would often come here before Christmas Eve. The big house looked even more majestic with the grounds covered in snow, and even though Mary and her sisters no longer lived here, the towering Christmas tree in the Great Hall still welcomed them home. The few servants left were dismissed for the week, leaving the family to fend for themselves. They all gathered in the kitchen to make Christmas cookies, and Cora and Mother handled the dinners. The Crawleys preferred Beef Wellington for Christmas, rather than turkey. Being here this particular year, with Emma far more interactive than she was as a newborn last year, Edith pregnant, and Mary's career on a better footing made the holidays seem more festive and enjoyable, a true family gathering.

"When are you flying out again?" Robert asked.

"New Year's Day," Mary answered. "The Golden Globes are the following Sunday, so we need to be in Los Angeles for the events beforehand."

"And you'll go back to Paris after that?" Cora asked.

"We don't have to," Mary shrugged, looking at Matthew. "The SAG Awards are two weeks later. It would make more sense to just stay in California, or maybe go to Toronto, rather than fly back and forth across the Atlantic."

"I haven't even though that far ahead," Matthew admitted. "It does make sense to stay there for the month. We've both got meetings lined up."

"That sounds promising," Isobel nodded, smiling at Mary.

"It does," Mary agreed. "I'm keeping an open mind."

* * *

Matthew padded quietly into the nursery, smiling as Sybil looked up from the recliner. Emma was sleeping peacefully against her chest, the warbling of Ed Sheeran playing softly from Sybil's phone.

" _Thinking Out Loud_ does the trick every time," Sybil smiled.

"Here I thought she'd go for something by The Cranberries," he joked, sitting down beside her. "How are you doing?"

"Good, thanks," she nodded. "She was such a nightmare on the flight over. Just wouldn't settle."

He nodded. "Tom told me."

"She was much easier to travel with last year. Now that she can walk and run, the second you look away, she takes off," she shook her head.

"Don't worry. Once she has a sibling to take care of, she'll learn more responsibility," he joked.

She rolled her eyes. "Like Mary and Edith took care of me? They dumped me on Nanny most of the time, or Mrs. Hughes."

"You're still having a second, though," he noted.

"Mmm hmm," she answered. "I think three years between them is probably the most I'd want, so sometime middle of next year we'll get to it."

He smiled and nodded.

"What about you?" she asked, looking at him pointedly. "Feeling broody?"

He chuckled softly. "No. Besides, it's Mary who needs to feel broody for it to mean anything, and I think we've got a ways to go there."

"You'd be surprised," she told him. "With Anna and Edith both due next summer, she might feel left out."

"Maybe. Though we still need to figure out where we're going to live," he remarked.

"I thought you were looking at houses in London?" she questioned.

"We did. Nothing really dazzled us. I think she'd be fine to just stay at Painswick House. With Rosamund seldom there and Edith and Bertie having their own place, the house is empty most of the time," he said.

"But you don't want to?" she asked.

He shrugged. "It would sort of feel strange to make that our permanent home. It's your family's house, not ours."

"I suppose. It depends on where your futures lie, really," she stated.

"That's true. I could see us being quite comfortable in a few different cities. There's no real rush, but it would be nice to have a real place of our own," he explained.

"Of course. Living in hotels and short term rentals must get tired after a while," she observed.

He nodded. "We might be in Los Angeles for all of January, so we found a house earlier this afternoon. It's remarkable what's available."

"For the right price," she smiled.

"Isn't that always how it is?" he laughed, getting up from his chair. He leaned over and kissed Emma on the forehead before kissing Sybil lightly. "Good night, darling."

"Good night," she replied. "Send my husband up when you see him, would you?"

He nodded and left the nursery.

 **Downton Village Church, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, January 1, 2019**

Their boots crunched on the pavement as they walked. Mary held tight to her husband's arm. Matthew held a wreath in his free hand. They didn't speak as they passed behind the Church and into the cemetery. The area was deserted, for which they were grateful.

Edith and Bertie had left a few days ago, heading up north to Brancaster Castle to spend New Year's with his family. Sybil and Tom had stayed behind at Downton with Emma, Aunt Rosamund, and Mary's parents. They all had shared a goodbye this morning when Mary and Matthew packed up their luggage to leave for the airport. Yesterday, Mary visited with Carson and Mrs. Hughes, wishing them both happy holidays.

This was their last stop before flying out for California.

Isobel had already came and left. She quietly asked to be alone today, and of course, everyone understood and obliged her. Matthew worried that she ought to spend the day with family, but Mary told him to leave her be. Everyone had to cope in their own way.

They reached the large granite headstone. Edith and Isobel had already left bouquets from their earlier visits. In the past year, a few fans had even made the visit, leaving cards, letters, and flowers in tribute. Most people went up to Downton, instead. A receiving box had been set up beneath a portrait hung prominently on the wall in the public area of the house.

Matthew stood aside as Mary stepped forward and placed the wreath at the foot of her Granny's grave. She reached out and touched her black glove to the cold stone, tracing the letters of Granny's name briefly before standing up and returning to Matthew's side. They remained there in silence for several moments, both of them lost in thought.

"What did she tell you when we broke up?" she asked quietly, looking over at him. "Do you remember?"

He found her eyes and nodded. "I spoke to her a few times after you left for Canada. She tried to explain why you left but I refused to listen. I was too crushed."

She sighed sadly.

"Eventually, she told me that I needed to get on with my career, and with my life. I thought she was just encouraging me to let you go, but looking back now, I see she wasn't doing that at all. She didn't want me to give up, but she knew I wouldn't be able to win you back through words alone. I had to follow my own path for a while and work on myself, and just trust that we would find our way back to each other eventually. So, that's what I did," he explained.

She smiled bravely at him before looking back at the headstone.

"I know it's not medically possible, but I still believe that she knew what was going on when we came back here to see her that time," he continued. "The way she spoke to me – telling me to not give up on you, on us – it wasn't her being stuck back in 2010. I'm sure of it."

She turned to him and nodded. "I know I told you that I didn't believe you, but one of the last things she ever said to me before she died was that I should marry you."

He smirked.

She smiled. "Exerting her influence over our lives to the last."

"I'm quite glad," he stated. "It means that she thought I was the one to make you happy."

She took his hand. "And loved us enough to do something about it."

They took one last look at Violet's grave, saying a silent prayer before they walked briskly from the cemetery and to the waiting limo bound for the airport.


	15. Chapter 15

**Previously:**

 **Downton Village Church, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, January 1, 2019**

She turned to him and nodded. "I know I told you that I didn't believe you, but one of the last things she ever said to me before she died was that I should marry you."

He smirked.

She smiled. "Exerting her influence over our lives to the last."

"I'm quite glad," he stated. "It means that she thought I was the one to make you happy."

She took his hand. "And loved us enough to do something about it."

They took one last look at Violet's grave, saying a silent prayer before they walked briskly from the cemetery and to the waiting limo bound for the airport.

 **Chapter 15:**

 **CAA Pre-Golden Globes Party, Chateau Marmont, West Hollywood, California, USA, January 11, 2019**

 _'California Love'_

Mary smiled as she typed the caption for the photo of her and Matthew kissing and posted it to her Instagram and Twitter accounts. She added a number of emojis and hashtags – _goldenglobes, mce, CAA, cali, nightlife_ , and so on – and tagged Matthew, her agency, the venue, Armani for Matthew's jeans and suit jacket and Erdem for her halter top and skirt. The bass from the music continued to throb around them, the party well into its second hour.

"That's quite nice," Matthew noted, glancing at her phone. "We look rather sexy, don't we?"

"That we do," she agreed, smiling at him and putting her phone away. "And you seem far more relaxed than last year. Dare I say you're becoming accustomed to these soirées, darling?"

"I'm not as intimidated by it all anymore, or as impressed," he smirked. "But it is Friday, and we've survived the week thus far. All that's left is tomorrow's BAFTA luncheon and the awards show on Sunday. I can see the finish now."

She rolled her eyes and laughed at him playfully. "God, it's such a horrible burden being nominated for a Golden Globe two years in a row. How do you manage?"

"Well, I have my beautiful wife to help me make it through," he teased, kissing her lightly. "She knows just how to keep me invigorated and energetic."

"And to keep you humble, with any luck," she blushed slightly before sipping her vodka and tonic.

Since their arrival last week, they had kept busy getting settled into their rented home in the Hollywood Hills, setting up their various meetings for the month, and figuring out how to get around the city. In the past, they always stayed in hotels and never were in town long enough to worry about cooking and a normal daily routine. As they would be spending all of January here this time, they had to get acclimated and actually figure out how to live in L.A.

They were hardly lacking for help. Alex and Anna were staying in a rented condo nearby. In addition to their best friends, there were numerous British ex-pats and actor colleagues who lived in the area. Once word got out that Mary and Matthew were in the city and would be staying for the month, invitations flew in.

For Mary, it was a massive boost to her self-esteem. Being invited out for tea, shopping trips and drinks in the evenings by people in the industry showed her that she had not been forgotten entirely. Though she wasn't particularly close with any of them, hanging out was fun, and helped her believe that she had a chance to pursue her dream again – away from London and Paris, the life and career in Hollywood that she imagined for years. Tonight's party, annually hosted by her agents, was another high point. There was no mention of scandal or her exile in France here. She was a prized client, as adored as anyone else, back in America and ready to seize her opportunities again.

By contrast, Matthew found their last ten days more of an ordeal than anything else. Their rented home wasn't as large as Painswick House, but it was still ridiculously big for just the two of them. The elevated location made it impossible to actually walk anywhere, the winding roads and gated entrance designed to keep gawkers and fans far away. It was a nice workout to bike to and from their home to the surrounding parks and hills, but in a city where traffic was notoriously harsh even at the best of times, adding those extra minutes to just get in and out of their enclave was tiresome.

The socializing was another thing. Though he appreciated that their transplanted acquaintances had reached out, he knew all of these people from back in London, and wasn't particularly friendly with any of them. Gwen, Natalie, Rooney, Eddie and his other actual industry friends would be around for Golden Globes week, and he was genuinely glad to see them, but it seemed every night since he and Mary landed they were being invited out to someone's house for drinks on the patio, to some club to hang out in the VIP area, or to a posh hotel for afternoon tea. He managed to get out of some of these engagements, the shopping and gossip sessions mainly, but part of him wondered what the point of all of this was. They weren't really spending time with these people for any particular purpose, but rather just going out to be seen, which bored him immensely.

The CAA pre-party was entirely predictable, as usual. He was accosted by agents looking to lure him over to their stable throughout the evening, and well-wishers who didn't even know who he was two years ago. There were some legitimately nice people among the lot, but he was convinced that most of them only wanted to talk to him now because he won the Golden Globe and Oscar last year. In the past, he would have killed to get into a party like this, just to be in the presence of successful people in the business. Now, he didn't feel particularly enriched to be among them.

He kept his arm around Mary's waist, holding her as she laughed with Anna. It was pointless to think about how superficial it all was. Awards season was about celebrating the past year in the industry, and he didn't take any issue with that. It was just that, for him, being in Los Angeles was about work. He had to be here. There was nothing wrong with enjoying himself with Mary at the same time, but he saw these events as more of a duty than actual fun, and living here for the month as a necessary reality, rather than a vacation.

"Natalie's here!" Mary told him, smiling cheerfully at the text on her phone. "I'm going to go over and have a drink with her."

"Go ahead," he nodded. "I'll catch up with her in a bit."

She kissed him quickly before getting up and heading off with Anna.

He glanced at his phone and wondered how much longer he would be stuck here before they could leave.

* * *

"You look amazing for being three months pregnant!"

Anna smiled and nodded. "Thanks. So far, so good, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time before I'm absolutely huge."

"Is it everything you thought it would be?"

Anna laughed. "It's horrible, actually. I haven't been that nauseous, but I wake up feeling achy all over. My appetite kind of comes and goes, as does my balance. Some days I just want to sleep for fourteen hours or so and never go outside. I'm loving every second of it."

The gathered circle of personal assistants all laughed, some of them knowing exactly what she was talking about.

Anna smiled and sipped her sparkling water, listening as another P.A. began telling a story about how her boss freaked out when she found out another actress had chosen the same dress as her for the red carpet on Sunday. Even though they were all here just last year, it seemed so much longer to Anna. So much had happened in that time that it felt closer to a decade. With Mary working over in Paris they were so disconnected from Hollywood. The weather was much nicer here in California, of course, and it was fun to catch up with everyone she hadn't seen in so long. It was also different to be spending the month here, rather than rushing back to a film set right away.

"I love this week," another P.A. gushed. "It's so much fun to catch up with everyone. It seems like forever since I last saw some of you."

"Right?" another P.A. chimed in. "Alexander is in town, too! God, it's been months since I ran into him!"

Anna blinked. "Alexander, you say? Alexander Green?"

"Yeah! I saw him at the WME party earlier. Tony Foyle's taking meetings here so he came along. When's the last time you saw him?"

"It's been a while," Anna replied.

"Yeah, that's what he said, too. He asked if you were around this week."

Anna's stomach churned. "Did he?"

"Yeah. Said he was looking forward to meeting up with you."

Anna sipped her drink and glanced around the room. If Green was around, she hoped she spotted him first, or at least, before Alex did.

* * *

"They let you in again this year, I see."

Mary rolled her eyes at the familiar voice and turned around. "Henry. I'm shocked that you're here."

"Hard to have an agency party without one of the agency's biggest clients," he replied, smirking at her as his eyes drifted down her halter top. "You're Matthew's plus one, are you?"

"He's not a client. I am. He's my plus one," she retorted. "Was there anything else?"

"Come now, Mary, we're friends," he smiled. "We can have a civil conversation, can't we?"

She frowned at him. "What does it matter? Are there cameras around?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "We have history together. Not all of it was as bad as you perhaps pretend it to be. Just a minute, that's all. It's a party. Surely, you don't have anywhere urgent to be?"

"Fine. Talk," she rolled her eyes.

"I saw _Orlena_. One of my agents passed it to me. You were exceptional in it, Mary," he nodded.

"Thank you," she replied cautiously.

"I especially liked when you had sex with Ludivine," he grinned cheekily.

She sighed in exasperation and shook her head. "Of course, you did."

"Now, now, you knew I was going to say that," he shrugged. "I'm sure I'm not the only one's who's mentioned it."

"It does not surprise me, no," she agreed. "Predictable as always, you are."

"Besides that, I did enjoy it, Mary, really," he told her. "You're in practically every scene and you do a wonderful job of playing each relationship differently. I was impressed, honestly."

"Well, I'm glad you liked it," she nodded. "You may be an ass, but you aren't a complete idiot when it comes to acting."

"Thanks. I did like it. In fact, I was so impressed by it that I put in your name for my next film," he noted.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Did you, now? For what role? 'Hot girl in bikini'?"

He laughed. "It's an action film for Fox. I mentioned you for the female lead. We'd be playing CIA operatives trying to thwart a terror attack."

She nodded. "Well, that is a change from what I've done in the past."

"The studio has Rosamund's information. No promises, of course, but I did tell the producers that I thought you would do well with the part," he stated.

"Thank you," she replied. "That was kind of you."

"I always enjoyed our time together, Mary, you know that," he said warmly. "The fans still see us an onscreen couple. I think you'll find that if we were to work together again, that chemistry we have would come back very easily, and would make for a good film."

She didn't comment, sipping her drink and looking away. Henry bringing up her name for a role was surprising, and she knew it wasn't entirely as selfless as he tried to make it seem. Still, he had pull and influence that she didn't, particularly in Hollywood. After all he had put her through, perhaps using Henry to boost her career would be sweet justice.

* * *

"Matthew! There's my guy!"

Matthew closed his eyes briefly before turning around and giving the grinning man with the slicked-back hair a polite smile.

"Win," Matthew nodded, shaking the agent's hand. "Good to see you."

"You, too. You, too. Listen, did you get the gift basket that I had sent up to the house for you? Rosamund told me where you and Mary were staying. Great neighbourhood up there! Nice and quiet, away from all the commoners down here, am I right?" Win laughed, slapping Matthew on the back.

"Erm, yes, we got it. Thank you. You really didn't have to," Matthew replied tightly.

"Come on, of course I'm going to send you something! A little welcome present, that's it. Plus, I know Joe is back in London so I figured you should have someone looking out for you. Anything you need, anything at all, you know who to get a hold of. One text and I'm on it, okay?" Win nodded, pointing his finger in Matthew's face.

"I'll keep it in mind," Matthew smiled.

"You do that. Listen, Matthew, can I be real with you? Let me be real with you for a minute. Can you do that?" Win asked.

Matthew looked at him curiously. "Sure. Be…uh…real."

"Here's the thing. Last year, you won for that supporting role in _Shattered_ – playing the boyfriend, the lover, right? Yeah, nice move. Now, since then, real nice choices you've made – a Marvel movie, did the De Niro/Pacino one, and now you're up for lead actor for _The Disciple_ , character drama/action thing. It's all good," Win explained.

Matthew nodded.

"Here's the thing. You're hot right now. You've never been hotter. You win on Sunday, great. You lose, still great. Now's the time where you need to step it up. Now's the time where you jump to that next level, the top level. It's a small window you're looking at. I can help you get through it, bust on through to the rarefied air – superstar level," Win promised.

"I'm pretty happy with how things are going, rather," Matthew remarked.

Win laughed and slapped him on the shoulder again. "Yeah, things are going great for you, sure. You've got that little thing you did with Rooney Mara, nice little indie film kind of thing. I'm talking about the big roles though. I'm talking about billion dollar worldwide grosses, tent poles, movies that make what you're doing look small time."

Matthew frowned skeptically. "Such as?"

"Whatever you want," Win grinned. "Superhero movies aren't as big as they used to be, but I can get you in those. Disney remakes, I can get you in those. You want to do voiceovers for Dreamworks or Pixar animated movies? I can get you in those. I'm talking the big leagues, Matthew, the pros. Hell, I can make you the next James Bond, if you want."

Matthew blinked. "I'm pretty sure they've already got someone for that."

Win scoffed. "It's all just rumours. He might pull out again at any moment. Listen, Matthew, take a look around you. Take a look at all these people. Look at all the talent around here. You don't think that every single one of them weren't in your position at one point or another in their careers? Okay, not all of them have won Oscars, but some have, a few have won more than one. The difference between the ones who get called first for all the big roles, the ones who don't have to audition, who get percentage deals of the box office proceeds, and can get the studios to greenlight their little vanity projects, the difference between them and everybody else isn't about talent, okay?"

Matthew looked at him, waiting for the answer.

"It's about opportunity," Win finished. "They saw their chance and they took it. The others missed, and now they're stuck in whatever lane they're in for the rest of their careers. As soon as this business thinks you're one thing, that's who you are, no matter what you do. But, I shouldn't have to tell you that, know what I'm saying?"

Matthew frowned at his implication.

"I get it, okay? I get it. You're British. You're from the theatre. You're all about these character-driven stories, intricate plots and all that. That's all good, really, it is. You can still do those. Right now, though, is your chance to show the studios that you can be an A-lister. They're still figuring you out for now. You can move numbers. You can win awards. That's great. Can you go global? That's the question. Prove you can, and you're set. Instead of people thinking you're crazy to do something small time, you'll be considered an artist, devoted to your craft. See what I mean? It's all about perception in this business. If you want to have a career that lasts 10, 20 years, you do a few blockbusters and get your name up there, and after that you can do anything you want."

Matthew looked away, contemplating his advice.

"Think about it, and good luck on Sunday. Tell Mary I said hello," Win smiled before leaving and disappearing back into the crowd.

* * *

Anna moved through the crowd, glancing around nervously before reaching a table in the far corner. The men seated there all looked up at her arrival and she smiled and nodded kindly as warm wishes and congratulations were offered. After accepting the pleasantries, she turned towards her husband and touched his arm.

"I'm sorry, but do you have much longer to go?" she asked.

Alex blinked and looked up at her with mild concern. "No, we're just talking. Are you okay? Do you want to leave?"

She smiled apologetically to Alex's guests. "I'm just a little worn out, is all."

"Yeah, sure. We're done here, anyway," Alex nodded, rising to his feet. He put his arm protectively around Anna's shoulders and quickly said goodbye to the other men, making hurried plans to follow-up on their talks tomorrow. The group bid them goodbye and he escorted her towards the exit.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything too important," she mumbled, looking up at him.

"We were done. There's a few deals that may make sense for some of my clients, but we'll talk some more and see where things go," he replied. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just want to go home," she answered. "I told Mary already."

He nodded and steered his wife to the exit.

She took one last look around as they left, cautiously relieved that she didn't see the one person she was afraid might turn up.

That one person did see her, however.

* * *

"All right?" Mary asked, smiling at Matthew as she returned to his side. "You're looking perfectly bored."

"I'm not bored," he replied, taking her into his arms. "I just don't flutter around like you do, that's all."

"I flutter, do I?" she questioned, arching her eyebrow at him. "Well, maybe I'll just flutter over to someone else for the rest of the evening, someone who isn't such a spoilsport."

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Go on. I know how much you enjoy these things. Have your fun. I'm fine."

She smirked at him. "Are you? Alex is gone. Who else but me is left to keep you company?"

"I don't need anyone's company. Besides, I know a few people around here," he shrugged. "I don't want to drag you away. You haven't seen some of this lot in a while, and it is your agency."

"I could be talked into leaving, if I were to receive a more enticing offer," she suggested, quirking her eyebrows at him.

He smiled. "It would be selfish of me to monopolize your time."

"But you would, if you had your preference," she challenged.

"If I had my preference, I would have taken you home ages ago, yes," he agreed, kissing her lightly. "And I certainly would have made it worth it for you to leave."

"Well, that sounds exciting," she noted, putting her arms across his shoulders and leaning into him. "You know, I noticed that Natalie is wearing just the cutest pair of earrings tonight. I believe they're Tahitian pearls."

He nodded. "That's nice."

"She told me she's received so many compliments on them, and she reminded me that they were actually a wrap present…from you," she added, arching her eyebrow.

He blinked. "Oh. Right, I forgot I even gave those to her. That seems like it was years ago."

"Mmm hmm," she nodded suspiciously. "That also reminded me that I don't recall getting a wrap present from you for _Shattered_. You seem to owe me one, don't you?"

He chuckled. "You got me. Is that not the best present of all?"

She looked up, pretending to consider his answer. "No, not really. I can't say that it is. Besides, we were already back together before the movie wrapped, so you can't say you were my wrap present, now can you?"

"If you want to get into semantics, I suppose you're right," he admitted. "Well, I got Rick a lightsaber for his wrap present. Would that suit you?"

"What do you think?" she challenged. "You gave Natalie earrings and I heard a rumour that you gave Rooney a day at the spa. I should think that your wife would deserve something better than that, at a minimum."

"To be fair, you weren't my wife when we wrapped on _Shattered_ , though," he noted.

"Mmm hmm, keep that up and let's see where it gets you, shall we?" she warned.

He laughed and pulled her close, kissing her cheek and hugging her to him. "Why don't you let me take you home and attend to you for the rest of the night, and I promise that I shall get you your wrap present this weekend?"

"Tempting," she smiled, her lips hovering over his ear. "Though you had best not be thinking that giving me the swag bag from Sunday will get you off the hook."

"No, I know better than that," he chuckled.

She drew back and nodded to him. "Very well. I'm all yours, then, Mr. Crawley. Off we go."

He took her hand and led her out. They stopped to say goodbye to several friends, agents and acquaintances along the way, and were soon off into the night.

 **76** **th** **Golden Globe Awards, The Beverly Hilton Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 13, 2019**

"Hey, Matthew."

Matthew turned and smiled as Rooney came over and gave him a quick kiss and a warm hug. "Hey."

"I'm so sorry," she sympathized, hugging him for a moment longer before stepping back and looking up at him apologetically. "I jinxed you."

He frowned in amusement. "What? What are you talking about?"

She sighed. "Anyone who stars opposite me never wins. Jesse, Cate, Dev, now you. I'm a jinx. I'm fucking bad luck."

He chuckled and shook his head. "You're not a jinx. I never expected to win. I was shocked to even be nominated with this field. Denzel's a hero of mine. He deserves it."

She smiled and touched his arm. "Well, you look good. You did a great job presenting."

He rolled his eyes. "Fuck off."

She laughed. "I'll see you at the after party. I'll buy you a drink."

"Sounds good," he nodded, giving her a hug before she left.

"Was that Rooney?" Mary asked, rejoining him.

"It was. She came over to offer her condolences. I suppose I'll be receiving a number of those tonight," he muttered.

"Well, for the record, I thought you were absolutely robbed," she declared, smoothing out the lapel of his Armani tuxedo.

"Thank you, darling, but you're just a bit biased," he smiled.

"And you're just a bit too self-deprecating for your own good," she replied, arching her eyebrow at him. "I know that Denzel is your idol, but that doesn't mean he had a better performance than you did this time around."

He sighed. "I'm sure that every year there are plenty of nominees who feel aggrieved. Denzel himself must have thought so a bunch of times."

"Exactly. That's why it's fine for you to feel the same way now," she smirked.

"No one likes a sore loser," he shrugged.

"In public, no. They can be a bit of a damper at parties," she smiled. "However, you can admit it to me, darling. I won't hold it against you. In fact, it would be a bit of a relief that you have some of the same feelings as us mere mortals."

He scoffed before smiling and leaning closer to her. "I wish I had won. Lady Mary never likes settling for second best. I should hate to think my wife consider me a loser."

She rolled her eyes. "You're not a loser."

"That's nice of you to say. Now, where's Anna and Alex? I need a drink."

She laughed and took his arm. "Follow me. They're waiting for us in the lobby."

 **Penthouse of Alex and Anna Lewis, Hollywood Hills, California, USA, January 13, 2019**

"Will Matthew be all right, do you think?" Anna asked, coming into the foyer and removing her high heels.

"For the millionth time, yeah," Alex replied, closing and locking the door behind them. "He's a grown man. Sure, he probably wanted to win, but what are the chances that he wins Best Supporting Actor one year, and Best Lead Actor the next? I mean, come on."

"I know. Being nominated was already incredible in and of itself, but when you're in with a chance, you sometimes get to imagining things," she replied, leading the way into the spacious living room.

"Sure. It's only natural, but overall it was a good night for him. He didn't screw up when he presented, and he got plenty of attention," he shrugged.

"That's true," she agreed, going over to the large windows that showed off the vast panoramic view of Hollywood and the rest of Los Angeles. "He and Mary were all over social media the moment they arrived."

"Obviously. Anyway, I'm sure she can lift his spirits," he replied, removing his tuxedo jacket and undoing his bow tie.

"With the year she's had, if she sees him wallowing, she's likely to tell him to quit his crying and buck up," she joked.

He undid his cuffs and unbuttoned his shirt as she leaned against the glass and looked out the window.

"You okay, love?" he asked, coming over and massaging her shoulders. The dress she was wearing had thin straps and he eased them down her arms as he caressed her skin.

"Mmm," she answered, leaning back against him and enjoying his touch. "I'm just glad the weekend is done. No more running around to all these different events. Now I can just focus on Mary's meetings and have a much easier schedule."

"I'm all for you taking things easy," he nodded, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. "I know you love catching up with all your friends at these parties, but you need your rest, too."

She blinked at his words, swallowing for a moment before turning her head and looking up at him.

"Babes, I have to tell you something," she said softly. "I found out that Green is in the city."

He frowned, his hands stilling on her shoulders. "Green? He's here?"

She nodded. "With Tony, apparently. He's here for meetings and they were at some of the events during the past week. I never saw him, but one of the other P.A.'s mentioned it to me."

He nodded. "I didn't see him either, but I wasn't really looking for him."

"I don't really care. I think he'll steer clear of us, anyway. He might even be on his way back to England tomorrow," she suggested.

He considered the possibilities. "Yeah, he knows we've got plenty on him. I doubt he'll try anything. Still, it's probably best that you not travel alone during our stay here."

She frowned and opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself when he moved his hand down to her belly.

"Just do it for me, love. It'll make me feel better," he requested.

She nodded. "All right, but that means you'll have to keep up with my schedule."

He smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

She turned to face him and lifted her head, kissing him warmly. "I've got yoga with Mary in the morning, so it's off to bed if you're going to be joining us."

He smiled and kissed her back. "Cool. Let's go to bed."

She rolled her eyes as he led her towards the hallway. "Off to bed to sleep, babes."

"Yeah, sleep, sure," he agreed, grinning at her.

"Sleeping right away," she corrected him.

"Sleeping right after, agreed," he replied.

She rolled her eyes and followed him, not surprised in the least when they reached the bedroom and he began undressing her, his leering gaze and urgent touch showing he did not intend for them to go to sleep for a while.

 **Montage Beverly Hills Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 16, 2019**

"I must say, Matthew, for a man who lost the Golden Globe just a few days ago, you're in a good mood."

Matthew smiled and nodded to the interviewer from _Elle_ magazine. He looked out across the pool area of the hotel before responding.

"It wasn't mine to lose. I was honoured to be nominated. _The Disciple_ is a great film and the more attention given to it, the better. I'm a big Denzel fan, so to see him win was great," he replied.

"Your last year would have seemed like even more of a fairytale had you won. Releasing your directing debut now, instead of following up your Oscar with another more established project is a bit risky, right?"

"Everyone else seems to think so," he chuckled. "The thing is that I worked more in the past two years than I did in the previous ten. We don't really control when movies get released. I was lucky that _Black Panther_ and _The Disciple_ turned around quickly so they both came out in the same year, but films can languish for years after us actors have finished our work. Sony was generous enough to fast track _10 Days_ , so here we are, but the fact that it's my next film to come out wasn't by design. I made the film and they decided it would come out now."

"It's a bit of a change for you, this movie. I've seen the trailer. For a smaller scale film like this, you're already up to over four million views on YouTube, which is impressive. You're working with Rooney Mara again, but it seems a bit lighter than your previous films."

"It is," he agreed. "It gets quite dramatic and suspenseful, but it's a love story above all, and that was the story I wanted to tell – about these characters and how they face these obstacles after they're a couple. There's very little will they/won't they in this film. I think it makes for a better story if the audience sees their relationship develop more organically instead of trying to constantly throw barriers in their way. Once they're established as a couple, now you can move the plot forward from that foundation. Rooney's fantastic in it, and having her be a part of the movie was a huge help for me."

"Now, I did hear that your wife, Mary, was supposed to play your love interest in the movie. What happened with that?"

He smirked. "Mary was even busier than I was this past year, so trying to find time in her schedule was always going to be difficult. Obviously, I would have loved for her to be in the movie, but she was already signed to do two films for Paul Chaput, and they are amazing. I can't wait for audiences over here to see them."

"It seems both of you have a lot going on right now. Is it hard balancing your married life with your careers?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "Not at all. We've been doing this for most of our adult lives, so we know how to manage our time. It's important to both of us that we take advantage of the opportunities that come up. I'm her biggest supporter, and she's mine, so we make it work."

" _10 Days_ comes out next month. What's after that for you? Do you already have something in the pipeline?"

"Nothing I can divulge at the moment," he teased. "I've got some ideas and thankfully, some people actually want to hear them. So, we'll see what develops from that. I'm always reading really incredible scripts. It's fun to not have to worry about what you're doing next and just take your time to figure out what's best."

"There's always married life for you to fall back on, right?"

He laughed. "Always. That's always going to come first for me."

The interviewer wrapped with a few more easier questions and eventually packed up and said goodbye. Matthew thanked her and saw her out before checking back in with the Sony representative overseeing the interview. With _10 Days_ debuting in February, the press junket to promote the film was ongoing. He and Rooney had answered some questions for reporters yesterday and today was his feature interview with _Elle_. As expected, some of the questions were about his personal life, rather than about the movie, but he handled them easily. Mary had prepared him for them in advance, knowing full well the tactics the media would use to dig for gossip.

"Rooney's on her way over," the representative informed him. "We'll get a few shots of the two of you in the pool and lounging on the deck. It shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. We'll get it in while the sun's up and it's still warm out."

"Right," he replied, glancing up at the blue sky. "Sounds good."

He headed off to one of the cabanas to change into his board shorts.

 **Home of Mary and Matthew Crawley, Hollywood Hills, California, USA, January 18, 2019**

"I've got Sam on video conference," Anna called, looking up from her laptop screen and nodding over to Mary.

Mary touched her tablet and the television on the wall lit up with the video conference call. Sam smiled at her.

"Mary, hi!"

"Hi," Mary smiled back. "I've got you loud and clear."

"Same here. Well, thanks for taking my call," Sam nodded.

"Of course," Mary replied warmly. "It's been too long. How's Aaron?"

"He's great, thanks. He says hi to you and Matthew," Sam answered. "Will we be seeing you both back for the BAFTAs next month?"

"Probably not, I'm afraid," Mary cringed. "We both have film premieres over here in North America in February, so the timing may not work."

"Pity. Well, hopefully Matthew is nominated for an Oscar and we can congratulate him when you come back," Sam stated warmly.

"Hope so, yes," Mary agreed.

"Right. Well, Mary, the reason I wanted to speak to you was that I saw _Orlena_ over here and I absolutely loved it. I thought your performance was very raw, and real, and brave. It was captivating, really, to watch this woman go through such an evolution with these different relationships. You were quite wonderful."

Mary smiled, her chest warming at the British director's praise. "Thank you so much. That means a great deal to me."

"Seeing the range you had in that role made me think that you'd be ideal for a project I'm working on. It's called _Ungentlemanly Warfare_. It's about a group of British women who worked as secret agents during World War II in France against the Nazis. There's some truly incredible stories here and we have a great script. I want you to be part of it," Sam revealed.

"That sounds interesting," Mary allowed. "I've never done a war movie before."

Sam smiled. "We're trying to show that even though these women weren't all seasoned soldiers, they were extremely important to the War effort. It's more about the emotion and desperation of the time, and their resiliency and resourcefulness against impossible odds, rather than actual military process. You're not going to be slogging around a trench, put it that way. The character you'll be playing – Pearl Witherington – was a fierce woman, but also someone who lost her home and her family to the Nazis. I think, after seeing what you did in _The Muse_ and _Orlena_ , that you can play the different dimensions of her character that I want."

"I'm flattered by your confidence in me," Mary smiled. "I'm considering some other projects at the moment. Matthew has a film he's developing for us."

"That's great. Take it from me, working with your husband can be harrowing at times, but it can be quite rewarding as well. You should definitely do it at least once," Sam encouraged her.

Mary smiled and nodded.

"Mary, I'll tell you, I really think this movie is very important. You know, it's not just that it's a wonderful story about genuine British heroines, but I'm working with a mainly female cast and crew. We have female cinematographers, producers and, of course, actresses. I want to use this film as a vehicle to showcase the incredibly talented women out there in the business who don't necessarily get the opportunities that they should," Sam explained. "It's a completely unique opportunity."

Mary nodded slowly. "I can definitely support that."

"Good. I have really high hopes for this one, and I think you'd be great in it. I'll get you the script and let me know what you think. The studio wants me to get this moving, and I'm rather eager myself, so we'd be up and shooting by Spring/Summer, most likely in England and France. Look it over and let me know. I really think you'll like it," Sam said.

"Great. Thanks, Sam," Mary responded.

They said goodbye and signed off. Sitting back on the sofa, Mary sipped her tea, going over the conversation again in her mind.

"That sounds rather ambitious. A war movie entirely about women," Anna noted.

"Told by women, and produced and directed by women, as well," Mary added. "It could be really big. To be part of a project like that would be epic."

"I can barely believe it," Anna shook her head. "For over a year, you've been sequestered in France. Now, you're here for barely a couple of weeks and you've got three films to consider – Henry's, Matthew's and now Sam's."

"In theory, yes. I haven't seen a script from anyone, and that includes whatever next project Paul is dreaming up back in Paris," Mary noted. "It's nice to be back in the conversation again, but these are all still rather niche films, really. Well, I assume Henry's is probably more mainstream, but I think the others are smaller."

"Alex says that Matthew's treatment for _Damocles_ is getting a decent response so far in his pitch meetings, as light as it is on details at the moment," Anna stated. "If he finds a studio to back him, he'll expect you to be in it, particularly since you turned him down on _10 Days_."

Mary frowned. "Well, it will take him a while to develop the actual script for his film. Who's to say how soon he'll be in a position to go ahead? Maybe months. I could always shoot a movie between now and then, whenever it ends up being. There's no reason that I can't do another project before moving on to Matthew's."

Anna raised her eyebrow in question. "I think he expects both of you to keep your schedules open for his film."

Mary shrugged. "Maybe, but he must know I'm not a firm yes without there being a script drafted. No matter what he expects, I need to weigh the benefits of each project first."

"I can see that, but that's what you did last time with _Duplicity_. I should think he'll expect you to be more in his favour this time," Anna pointed out.

"Maybe he will, but then again, I should hate to be predictable," Mary replied, sipping her tea.

 **Universal Pictures, Universal City, California, USA, January 18, 2019**

"Damocles. Should we change the name, maybe? Make it more friendly sounding? More modern? How about Danny?"

"How big would the sword be above his head? Are we talking King Arthur here, or something more like one of those huge swinging type deals?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought it was – the sword of Damocles, right? That huge swinging thing that gets closer and closer to you as it moves down? That has to be in there at some point, right?"

Matthew struggled to keep both his facial expression and his frustration under control. While he didn't expect that one of the biggest movie studios in the world would jump for joy at hearing him pitch his treatment, he wasn't expecting the level of clueless ignorance that he was getting either.

"What about togas? We could have Danny meet the guy he's swapping places with at a toga party, make it sort of a tribute to the origins of the story, right?"

"I can honestly say that I never thought of that possibility," Matthew replied.

"All right, well we're interested, Matthew, put it that way. Develop it some more, get us a draft of a script and we'll talk," Kevin nodded.

"Thanks," Matthew replied, eyeing the man cautiously. Ultimately, he had agreed to this meeting for Mary's sake and not much else. While he didn't have a studio or financing for his next film yet – or, rather, the idea for his next film – he still wasn't thrilled to be sitting at the same boardroom table as the men who thought his wife wasn't worth investing in and working with.

"We have a project that we think you'll be perfect for, Matthew," Kevin continued. One of his lackeys slid a script across the table. "It's a bit of a combination between _Fight Club_ and _The Shawshank Redemption_. You would be playing one of the leads – a criminal stuck in prison who has to fight his way out. Our market analytics show that there's a very healthy demand worldwide for these types of movies that are dramas with action elements mixed in."

Matthew flipped the pages of the script, skimming some of the scenes. "Who's Rhys?"

"That's your brother," one of the assistants explained. "He's on the outside trying to get you free, only for you to find out in the third Act that he's responsible for sending you to prison in the first place."

"Setting up the climatic fight in the end."

Matthew nodded, keeping his expression neutral.

"We have Henry Talbot signed on to play Rhys."

Matthew blinked and looked up. "Henry?"

"He's done great work for us in the past," Kevin explained. "His last three films have all been big for us. I think the two of you would play off each other very well."

Matthew went back to the script, advancing several pages. "And Gemma? That would be my character's girlfriend?"

"The one that you and Rhys are fighting over, but you don't know that until the third Act."

Matthew looked back to Kevin. "Who do you have in mind for that role?"

"A few people. I think we have it down to Kirsten Dunst or Zoe Saldana. Someone on that level. Not a big enough name to take any of the spotlight away from you, but recognizable enough for us to market in other countries," Kevin advised.

Matthew nodded. He closed the script and set it aside.

"So, what do you think?"

"Sounds interesting," Matthew answered neutrally. "I'll read it over and get you an answer right away."

"Great," Kevin smiled. "The sooner we hear about what you think, the better. We'll speed up our internal review for your Damocles project, too. May as well work both those tracks at the same time."

"May as well, yes," Matthew agreed.

 **Home of Mary and Matthew Crawley, Hollywood Hills, California, USA, January 18, 2019**

By the time Matthew finished his meeting with Universal and headed home, Mary had gone for a swim and was relaxing in the hot tub out on the deck. The weather in Los Angeles was still warm during the day, but it certainly wasn't balmy later in the afternoon. Her swim had been invigorating, prolonging her excitement from the video conference with Sam. This entire week had gone well. She was no closer to landing a lead role, but she was at least part of conversations now, something she hadn't managed for over a year.

She smiled as the bubbles foamed about her shoulders. The films she was considering were all just concepts for now, but each of them had the potential to be helpful to her career. Henry was annoying to work with, but she was used to him, and he had studio backing. His film would be a true Hollywood project. There was a dark appeal in using Henry to make her way back into an American film. With his massive ego, it was so easy to wind him up. During their time on _Paladin_ , she loved playing with him, knowing that he couldn't resist her bait. She didn't want to return to working with him regularly, but establishing herself again with one of his movies seemed like an easier route than continuing to toil away in France or accepting a lesser role in a smaller film.

Turning over, she rested her head on her folded arms, the hot water soothing her back and legs. She could imagine Sybil's voice screaming at her to choose Sam's film instead. A feminist war movie. Her baby sister would wax poetic for hours on how this was the right project to take on. Admittedly, it had been ages since she'd done a proper British film, and with Sam helming the project, it was bound to be high profile, at least in Europe. She imagined living in one of the homes that she and Matthew had looked at in Knightsbridge or Chelsea, going to work and coming home to dinner with Edith or any of her friends. Even filming on location in France was something she was now comfortable with. After spending years in Toronto and Paris, perhaps it was time for them to truly go back home.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. From an early age she vowed to make her own decisions. Granny told her countless times that one never had very much control of anything in this business. One of the few things that anyone, particularly an actress, could control was what she chose to do next in her career. Mary was always in a privileged position. Without having to worry about actually making money to support herself, she could avoid many of the dangers that young women encountered when they were first starting out. Even when she took small parts in the beginning to build her screen credits, she weighed each choice carefully, and never had to take something degrading just to get a job. Even recently, when she was banished to France and it was either work for Paul, or not work at all, she went through the same process. Did the part make sense for her? Was the character she was taking on the right move for her, forgetting about everyone and everything else?

However, since getting married, it was becoming harder and harder for her to block everyone and everything out. She found herself wondering more and more what Matthew would think of the decisions she made, even before she made them.

It was maddening how with his popularity soaring to heights unimaginable, her husband was even more unaffected than ever. His career was littered with television roles and commercials that he took just to make ends meet, or fill a gap on his CV. He never saw any shame in it, reasoning that everyone had to pay their dues to a degree. With every major studio now eyeing him, he chose not to binge on the name recognition of a project, or be swayed by the huge piles of money being thrown his way. His popularity now allowed him to take or leave whatever came up, and only commit to a project he truly believed in.

They hadn't discussed _Damocles_ since he had first come up with the idea back in Paris. It was but an outline at the moment, a treatment, barely a few pages long. He said she would be playing his lover, but she knew better. Just as he had written Josephine to be star of _10 Days_ , he wouldn't finish his script for a new movie until there was a prominent role for her in it, something that allowed her to challenge herself.

She had turned down _10 Days_ , and she had her reasons – valid reasons that he had accepted. While she was proud of the work she did in _Duplicity_ , what he had managed to pull off in a mere month of filming was brilliant. No matter what she chose to do, she would likely have to share top billing, with Henry, with an ensemble cast in Sam's war movie, or with Matthew. Having her name next to his should have been the preferred option, so long as his script was good.

These thoughts swirled in her head as she relaxed with the water jets pulsing all around her. Eventually she got out, the water streaming down her body and on to the deck. She towelled herself off quickly and threw on her robe, heading inside just as Matthew came home.

"Darling," she smiled. "How was your meeting with Universal?"

He waved his hand dismissively and came over to kiss her. "More of a pain than anything else, but it's over now at least."

"They didn't have anything worth discussing?" she asked. "Aunt Rosamund made it sound as if they had these incredible projects for you."

"I told you, they were all rubbish," he shrugged, taking her hands and glancing down her body. "They had the audacity to offer me a part co-starring with Henry, if you can believe that."

She blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"My reaction exactly," he nodded. "Some stupid bit of nonsense where I would play a prisoner trying to fight my way to freedom while he plays my supposed best friend trying to help me get out, while creeping around with my girlfriend behind my back."

"That does sound detestable," she agreed. "Surely they must know about the history between all of us?"

"Obviously," he huffed. "They either think I'll look past all of it, or they want to profit from it. Either way, they clearly don't know me at all."

She nodded. "What about _Damocles_? What did they think of it?"

"They paid it lip service, mainly. They didn't understand it at all," he revealed. "Anyway, I doubt I would go through them, anyway. They seem like the meddling type."

She laughed and hugged him. "My poor darling. Major studios groveling at your feet. How tiresome that must seem."

He chuckled and pulled her towards the hallway. "How was your swim?"

"Lovely," she nodded. "I had a soak in the hot tub. It was glorious."

"I'll have to see for myself," he replied. "Fancy a shower now?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "I'll have a quick rinse, yes. What shall we do about dinner?"

"I discovered a great place for fish earlier in the week," he smiled. "There's some beautiful Chilean sea bass fillets in the fridge."

"Perfect," she nodded, kissing his hand quickly before heading into the ensuite bathroom.

Dinner was delicious, the grilled fish going perfectly with a light spinach salad that Mary prepared and a bottle of wonderful Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley. They spoke about everything except work. Current events, next week's schedule, Sybil's latest videos of Emma, and Isobel's next project at Downton helped them pass the time. After clearing the dishes, they shared a bowl of fruit on the sofa in the living room. Mary's phone provided the music.

"Are you nervous about next week?" she asked, relaxing in his arms. "The Oscar nominations come out on Monday."

"No," he answered. "It would be an honour to be nominated again, but I didn't win last weekend, so I can't imagine my chances would be very good going forward."

"Maybe, but you were nominated for a Golden Globe and a SAG Award," she noted. "You should at least be up for an Oscar."

"It's always a smaller field, you know that," he answered. "Why? Have a new dress you're dying to wear?"

She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "No. I hardly need an awards show for that purpose. I just want you to be properly recognized for your work, that's all."

He chuckled and kissed her cheek, pulling her back against him. "Thank you. If I am nominated, you must promise to lie faithfully if anyone asks you about my chances."

She turned in his hold and caressed his face. "I don't need to lie. If anyone asks, I'll tell them the truth – that I am immensely proud of you, regardless of whether you win or not."

He smiled and kissed her tenderly. "You know, if I am nominated, I'll want to celebrate."

She smiled and kissed him, a delightful warmth spreading through her chest as his hands ran up and down her back. "That's only right. It's an important achievement."

"That it is," he whispered, his lips moving down to her neck. "Something worthy of commemoration."

"Did you want me to plan a party for you?" she breathed, arching her back and closing her eyes.

"I was thinking of something far more intimate," he replied. "We've been to more than enough parties of late."

She hummed sultrily as he slowly unzipped her top, tugging it down her arms and off as he kissed her exposed skin. Shifting on the sofa, he moved on top of her, his hands sliding all over, unbuttoning her shorts and easing them down her legs.

She answered eagerly, stripping him down to his underwear as they moved together, their lips constantly seeking out the other's flesh, hands roaming as they twisted and moved to better help each other out of their clothing. When he unsnapped her bra, his mouth found her breast, his lips and tongue ravishing her sensitive skin with ardour.

"Mmm," she moaned, clutching the back of his head and unwinding her hips against him. They really ought to retire to the bedroom, she thought fleetingly. The panoramic windows were wide open, though it was near impossible for anyone to see in, given that a wall of trees and the ravine behind their home kept them sufficiently isolated. Still, the thought that he was so desperate for her that he couldn't be bothered to move from the sofa was thrilling.

"I want you," he growled, kissing his way up to her face, his hand moving down her stomach and slipping beneath her panties.

"I'm yours," she called, closing her eyes as his fingers moved ever closer to her aroused centre. "Have me."

She groaned as he slid a finger inside of her, quickly adding a second when he discovered how ready she was for him. Her hips moved in response, and she lifted her bottom just enough to slide her panties off, spreading her legs wantonly to give him full access.

"So good," she moaned, gasping as he pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue confidently slipping past her lips. She reached out blindly and grabbed at his back, pulling him closer as he kept thrusting with his hand, his fingers knowing exactly what spots to hit again and again.

"Look at me, Mary," he ordered, his voice a right rasp in her ear.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her breathing growing more ragged by the second. His blue eyes shone, an arrogant sneer on his face. She loved seeing him like this, so primal and focused upon her. He made her feel as if making love to her was some kind of addiction, a craving that he couldn't get enough of. His fingers moved faster, hit deeper, and she kept her eyes locked on his, letting him watch as rapture spread across her face.

"I'm going to get you there," he promised, his voice firm and slightly laboured with his effort. Her arousal spiked as she listened to him tell her all the things he intended to do to her, the fact that her gentlemanly husband was snarling such filth exciting her all the more. She imagined that only she could bring this side out of him, cause him to forget himself so thoroughly. His lust and his love were devoted entirely to her, and the very thought pushed her ever closer to the edge.

"Matthew!" she cried, shutting her eyes and shouting as he sent her over, his fingers playing with her just enough to prolong her bliss. She shook in his hold, the soft suede of the sofa smooth against her naked back. Her arms fell above her head, her hair wild about her as he kissed his way down her body, just as he said he would.

She whimpered when she felt his mouth between her legs, his touch light enough to keep her floating while she recovered. Eventually, she opened her eyes as he sat up and grinned down at her. With a gentle nudge to her thigh, he turned her over on to her front, his hands massaging her legs before giving her ass a playful squeeze.

Her hands reached out and grabbed the armrest of the sofa, her eyes closing as he lifted her hips and brought her up to her knees. The heat of his body crept up from behind as he neared, and she licked her lips in anticipation as his hand moved up her back to caress her nape.

"I love you so much," he rumbled, his voice thick with longing. He teased her, pushing her legs apart and pulling her back to him.

"I love you," she called, a sharp yelp leaving her lips as he took her from behind. He went slowly, which only tormented her all the more. His one hand on her back and his other on her hip kept her in place, controlling the pace as she struggled to push against him, wanting more much faster than he was willing to give.

"Please," she begged, the feel of him so incredible and yet not nearly enough. Growing up, she prided herself on never begging anyone, let alone a man, for anything. Even in their earlier relationship she was more likely to demand things from him than plead for them. Now, though, she felt no shame in being so open and bold with him. She knew he loved to see and hear her like this, and that excited her in turn.

"Fuck," he grunted, finally letting her take all of him before he pulled back and thrust again. "So fucking good."

She moaned in time with his movements, her voice adding to the lewd symphony of their bodies coming together. His hand slid around to her neck and pulled slightly. She straightened her arms, arched her back and raised her head, crying out as the new position allowed him to push even deeper. His fingers found her mouth and she closed her lips around him, tasting him while his hips grew all the more fierce and insistent.

"Tell me," he hissed, his fingers leaving her mouth and taking hold of her shoulder. "Tell me."

"Oh God!" she groaned, her fingers clawing at the arm rest for purchase. "Fuck me! Fuck me!"

He grinned as she spilled her feelings in graphic detail, every dirty phrase making his blood roar through his veins. His eyes moved up her slender back, past her disheveled hair and to the dark evening sky outside. It didn't matter if they were in Toronto, New York, Paris, London, or Los Angeles, in a luxurious rented home, hotel room or apartment. He would follow her anywhere, any place they were together was home.

"Matthew," she cried, lifting up and sitting back against him. Her arm reached up and wound around the back of his head. His hands moved around and cupped her breasts. Her hips continued to ride on top of him, taking all of him with every rise and fall. "Please. Please. I want to feel you. I want it!"

He grunted harshly and buried his head against her neck, breathing in her heated skin, rocking back and forth against her in a frantic chase to finish together.

She called his name over and over, unable to stop the desperate moans coming from her mouth. She squeezed him, ground her hips, begged him with depraved words, anything to bring on his release. Finally, she threw her head back as he sent her flying, her eyes shooting open when she felt him fill her and let go.

They sat together like that, their heartbeats thundering against each other, gulping in air. He smoothed her damp hair away from her face and held her protectively against his chest, not willing to untangle from her just yet.

"Mmm, you've made me untidy," she drawled, turning her head and kissing him lazily.

"Good," he smiled, kissing her back. "Now you'll need another shower."

She laughed, her voice sending a tremor of arousal through him. "And you won't let me clean up alone, no doubt."

"What kind of husband would I be to leave my wife to her own devices? Since I was the one to make you dirty, it stands to reason that I should be the one to help clean you up," he grinned.

She rolled her eyes, her smile never leaving her face. "How can I possibly argue with such logic?"

He chuckled and kissed her before slowly easing back and rising to his feet. Helping her up, he put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head before guiding her towards the hallway.


	16. Chapter 16

**Previously:**

 **Home of Mary and Matthew Crawley, Hollywood Hills, California, USA, January 18, 2019**

She called his name over and over, unable to stop the desperate moans coming from her mouth. She squeezed him, ground her hips, begged him with depraved words, anything to bring on his release. Finally, she threw her head back as he sent her flying, her eyes shooting open when she felt him fill her and let go.

They sat together like that, their heartbeats thundering against each other, gulping in air. He smoothed her damp hair away from her face and held her protectively against his chest, not willing to untangle from her just yet.

"Mmm, you've made me untidy," she drawled, turning her head and kissing him lazily.

"Good," he smiled, kissing her back. "Now you'll need another shower."

She laughed, her voice sending a tremor of arousal through him. "And you won't let me clean up alone, no doubt."

"What kind of husband would I be to leave my wife to her own devices? Since I was the one to make you dirty, it stands to reason that I should be the one to help clean you up," he grinned.

She rolled her eyes, her smile never leaving her face. "How can I possibly argue with such logic?"

He chuckled and kissed her before slowly easing back and rising to his feet. Helping her up, he put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head before guiding her towards the hallway.

 **Chapter 16:**

 **Penthouse of Alex and Anna Lewis, Hollywood Hills, California, USA, January 20, 2019**

Anna sighed as she stretched out beneath the duvet. She kept her eyes closed, stubbornly clinging to the last moments of slumber. She hadn't been sleeping well lately, something about being on the West Coast throwing off her rhythm. Her working days weren't particularly difficult. Accompanying Mary to meetings and scheduling the itinerary for the SAG Awards next week was normally rather easy. Now, with the twins growing each day, her idea of normal changed constantly. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to make it through the night without getting up at least twice, and it often took her a while to fall back asleep.

With one hand covering her growing belly, she reached back with the other and found only emptiness. Blinking several times, she craned her neck and glanced behind her, frowning when she discovered that she was in bed alone.

Her frown quickly disappeared when a delightful scent wafted into the bedroom. She took a moment to savour it, closing her eyes and breathing deeply to make sure she wasn't imagining things. Finally, convinced she was both awake and lucid, she eased herself out of bed with a groan.

Throwing on her robe on the way to the hallway, she shuffled along slowly, taking her time. Her legs ached a touch, nothing too unpleasant, but another reminder that her body was changing all the time. Her back was a bit worse. She was now into her second trimester, and the extra weight was both clearly showing and affecting her. While her diet was impeccable, carefully watched by her husband at all times, she was feeding twins, and so was eating steadily more and more as the weeks went on. She kept reminding herself that she was having an easier pregnancy than most women so far – very little morning sickness, no bloating, hardly any varicose veins and manageable fatigue. Her mood swings had lessened as well from last month, which was a bit disappointing. She kind of liked flying off the handle whenever she wanted to.

A smile was finally allowed to cross her face when she reached the kitchen and inhaled the wonderful aroma. Alex was standing at the counter, wearing just his pyjama pants, putting together a breakfast tray.

"You're awake," he smiled as she came over and kissed him lightly. "I was going to bring this to you in bed."

"Mmm, next time," she nodded. Her eyes lit up as she took in the bowl of pastries. Reaching out and pulling a flaky croissant apart, she breathed in the freshly baked warmth before popping it in her mouth. "This almost tastes like Paris."

He laughed, nodding as he carried the tray over to the kitchen table and set it out for them. She went over and sat down while he got the orange juice and milk from the fridge.

"I got these from a bakery over in Pacific Pallisades," he informed her, sitting down and lifting her legs up so he could massage her feet. "The owner swears that he uses French flour, French butter, and rests the dough in a climate controlled room before they go in the oven. Tastes almost like Paris, yeah."

She laughed and spread jam on her croissant before taking a bite.

"So, it's a warm and sunny Sunday in L.A.," he announced, caressing her feet and reaching up to rub her calf. "What do you want to do?"

"I should take a walk at some point," she shrugged. "It seems so much harder to just go out for a stroll here than in Toronto."

He smiled and nodded. "We can go down to the beach."

"I could go for that," she agreed.

They both went back to eating their breakfast, the prospect of a lazy Sunday sounding most enticing.

 **Soho House, West Hollywood, California, USA, January 20, 2019**

The rooftop garden restaurant at Soho House was typically California. Bright sunshine poured in through the large panes of glass that wrapped all around the space. Trees, shrubs and plants grew everywhere amongst the tables, making it seem as though the club members were dining in a forest somewhere, rather than on the Sunset Strip. A posh, immaculately tended and trimmed forest full of entertainment industry creatives and wannabes having meetings that weren't nearly as important as they thought they were, but a forest all the same. The rooftop had a roof of its own, with large retractable sections in case of rain. Between the ambiance, the beautiful people, and a brunch menu that featured the predictable fish tacos, shrimp, salmon and a plethora of salads, it was a fun and exclusive spot where the privileged could spend a Sunday morning.

That is, unless one was hungover, which Matthew unfortunately was.

Hiding behind dark Armani sunglasses, he sipped a green smoothie concoction of some sort that had chunks of unknown ingredients floating in it. The server told him it was a guaranteed morning-after cure, but he thought it was kale, avocado and cucumber thrown into the blender with some mint. Regardless, it was one of the few things he figured he could keep down, so he went with it.

"I looked over Sam's script. It's very promising," Rosamund told Mary, frowning at Matthew for a moment before continuing. "You'd be part of an ensemble cast of actresses, but I think your role – as Pearl – has the most potential. She was the one of the few to actually fight the Germans in France, and her story is quite captivating. Most importantly, she didn't die in the War, so you'd have more screen time than some of the others."

Mary nodded, absorbing the information. She glanced over at Matthew, wondering if he would feel annoyed that she was discussing a film other than his _Damocles_ as her next project. Conveniently for her, last night's activities had him in no condition this morning to feel anything other than a pounding headache, it seemed.

It had started innocently enough. Some of their fellow Brits in the city had invited them out for drinks at a pub. It wasn't a celebrity spot, which meant there were no paparazzi to be seen, a rare treat during awards season. They took over a large booth in the back and shared drinks and gossip, took selfies and had a nice time. Matthew participated often enough, for him. These were more her friends than his.

Halfway through the evening, members of the L.A. Galaxy football team came into the pub. As one of the least popular of the local pro sports teams, the players were mostly unrecognizable by the general public, and could do as they pleased. The exception, however, was ageing superstar Zlatan Ibrahimovic. The towering Swede entered the pub and immediately drew everyone's attention for his imposing height, man bun hairstyle and thin moustache. A multimillionaire many times over, Zlatan played for Matthew's beloved Manchester United for two years before moving to the U.S.

"Who's that one?" Mary asked, looking at Matthew curiously.

"That's Zlatan," Matthew replied, his eyes bright. "He played for United last season."

"Ah, so he was on that team that lost to Madrid in the Champions League Final?" she asked.

He huffed. "Yes."

That should have been the end of it. Matthew wasn't one to ask for autographs or photos, even from sports stars. They all continued with their drinks and conversation, until their server came over and said that Zlatan invited Matthew to come over to the players' table.

And now here he was the next morning, a complete mess after having a more than a few beers with Zlatan Ibrahimovic, of all people.

"Matthew," Rosamund called, putting on a fake smile. "I understand that Universal discussed a project with you last week?"

He nodded, his sunglasses making it impossible for her to tell if he was looking at her or not. "They did. It's a prison break story. Henry's in it."

"What an interesting coincidence," Rosamund nodded. "Henry put Mary's name in for another project over at Fox."

"I heard that he did, yes," he replied, taking another sip of his smoothie.

Mary barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. When she told Matthew about her talk with Henry at the CAA party, he was livid. He had no clue how she could even think about working with him again after all the misery he had caused. She tried to explain that it was for that same reason why taking advantage of his name and studio backing made perfect sense, but he wasn't having it. While he would never tell her what to do with her career, he made it perfectly clear that he thought it was foolish to even associate with Henry again, and that he would never work with him.

"What if it's the role of your dreams?" she demanded. "You wouldn't be able to look past working with Henry to get that?"

She almost heard his answer in her head before he even said it. "Any project involving Henry Talbot isn't a dream. It's a nightmare."

They didn't discuss it again. At least she was smart enough to mention that project first. It made bringing up Sam's World War II film far easier.

"It's wonderful that you're back in the mix for these projects. We must choose carefully. Many people will be watching to see how your next film is received," Rosamund noted.

Mary nodded. "The CIA film seems the biggest in scope. Large studio. Established cast. Recognized director. It checks a lot of the boxes."

Matthew grunted and took another sip of his smoothie.

Mary frowned at him for a moment before resuming her own brunch.

"Who's the distributor for Sam's film?" Matthew asked, putting his drink down and looking at Rosamund.

"eOne for the UK, and Summit for America," Rosamund replied.

"There you go, darling," he remarked, giving Mary a patient smile. "Sam's film has top level studio support as well."

"That is a good thing, yes," Mary agreed, arching her eyebrow at his exaggerated cheerful tone.

"Commercially, I should think that Henry's film will be more successful," Rosamund observed. "But Sam's project has BAFTA written all over it."

"Who knows, maybe it'll be in the running for the Palme d'Or!" he exclaimed. "That would be rather fitting, wouldn't it?"

"Sam's movie certainly has more potential to be received well by critics. The CIA film is more of an action drama from the sounds of it," Mary replied.

"What else? I haven't seen anything from Paul Chaput. Surely, he's creating something?" Rosamund questioned.

"Nothing specific as of yet. He's focused on _Duplicity_ for now, since it's having a worldwide release. The _Orlena_ premiere is next month, but I doubt he cares about that," Mary shrugged. "Whatever he's planning, I'm sure to hear about it when he's ready."

"Perhaps we should touch base with him," Rosamund suggested. "He might expect you to hold open your schedule in advance."

Matthew looked wryly over at a nearby tree.

"I'm sure he does expect that, but I don't know if I would pass over the CIA film, or Sam's for him. I've already done three movies for him," Mary answered.

"I'll put in a call to Canal and see what I can find out," Rosamund stated, making a note on her phone. "Well, three potential projects for you in the New Year to choose from. Wonderful."

"There's another," Mary mentioned, glancing at Matthew.

"Oh?" Rosamund said. "And what is that?"

"Matthew's working on another film," Mary informed her.

"Is he?" Rosamund repeated, looking at Matthew in question.

"Oh, that's months away, yet, if at all," he waved his hand dismissively. "All I've got is a treatment. Who knows if it will ever get off the ground?"

Mary looked at him with a perplexed frown.

"Fair enough. So, three it is, then," Rosamund declared.

"And three excellent options," he nodded. "Well, I need to get going. I've got a training session in the afternoon and I should go and lie down to see if my head clears a bit more."

Mary blinked in surprise as he rose from his chair and kissed her quickly on the cheek.

"I'll see you later, darling. Love you," he said in a clipped tone before nodding across the table to Mary's aunt. "Rosamund."

"Matthew," Rosamund smiled back. The two Crawley women both watched him make his way to the exit, swaying slightly on his feet.

"What in God's name brought that on?" Mary mumbled, frowning at the doorway in the distance where her husband had disappeared.

"The eggplant dip here is absolutely divine!" Rosamund chirped happily, taking a bite of a pita.

Mary turned back to look at her and rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Lady Mary," the server called, coming over and placing two mimosas on the table. "Compliments of the Honourable Mr. Rémy."

Mary's eyes widened, but quickly recovered and nodded. "Thank you. You may give the Minister my thanks."

"Yes, Lady Mary. He's at the corner table over there," the server advised before leaving.

"Minister?" Rosamund asked, taking a sip of the champagne cocktail.

"Xavier," Mary nodded. "He's the French Minister for Culture. He's the one who approved the tax rebates for _Orlena_ and _Duplicity_ that's allowing them to be released worldwide."

"Ah," Rosamund smiled, glancing over to the corner table. "And which one is he?"

Mary turned slightly and looked over her shoulder. Xavier was sitting in the corner, smiling and nodding with a group of other men.

"He's the tall one," Mary stated, going back to her food.

"My, my, French politicians are not nearly as stuffy as British ones," Rosamund hummed. "He seems a rather modern man."

"If you only knew," Mary muttered, sipping her mimosa.

"Pardon?" Rosamund asked.

"He's here for awards season, I imagine," Mary continued. "He attends various events to promote France as a filming destination."

"A hands-on approach. How progressive of him," Rosamund smiled. "You ought to go over and say hello when we're done."

Mary stabbed her fork into her salad, too distracted to bother thinking about Xavier for now.

 **Penthouse of Alex and Anna Lewis, Hollywood Hills, California, USA, January 20, 2019**

Anna held on to Alex's hand as he opened the door and they went into the apartment. He smiled back at her, keeping his fingers linked with hers as he kicked off his sandals and she her ballet flats before heading into the living room.

Their walk had been lovely. Rather than take her up to the park, they went down to Beverly Hills and just wandered about. The weather was pleasant enough – warm, not hot – and the route he led her on just happened to pass by three specialty baby boutiques. Though they already had everything they needed picked out and sitting back at their house in Toronto, she still loved browsing the miniature furniture, toys and clothes. The nursery wasn't completely decorated yet. She wanted to wait until closer to her delivery date to finish the colours and put the twins' actual names up in the room. It wasn't entirely clear who had to resist the urge to buy even more of everything – her or Alex.

She couldn't quite feel the twins moving yet, though sometimes she swore she did. Their presence was so very real now. They had survived the first trimester, the three of them, healthy and sound, and she allowed herself to believe now that she would carry her pregnancy to term and everything would be all right. She was going to have Alex's children, and their lives were going to change forever. The idea was becoming more wonderful than terrifying with each passing day.

He led her into the kitchen, releasing her just long enough to go to the fridge and fetch two bottles of water. Standing against the counter, she smiled as he neared. He opened her bottle and handed it to her. She looked up at his tanned face smirking down at her, an entire conversation passing between them through just their eyes.

She took a slow sip, licking her lips when she finished, a satisfied sigh bubbling up from her throat. He drank in turn, watching her all the while.

Familiar warmth pooled in her chest and spread through her body. He grinned knowingly, both of them easily reading the others' thoughts. In the past she tended to be more reserved, not used to being as open with her feelings as he was, whether it be anger, joy, or desire. Since her pregnancy, most of her inhibitions had waned, along with her usual cool demeanor. Not only was she more likely to tell him anything and everything on her mind, but she wasn't afraid to take the initiative now, in all manner of things.

Every woman experienced pregnancy differently, and having twins made her situation all the more unique. Her usual curiosity led her to read books, articles, blogs, and watch videos on all stages of the process. Some of the things she found out scared the hell out of her, others had her giddy with anticipation. It was enlightening to go through each month and realize how nothing happened exactly as she had read. The differences were sometimes just a matter of degree, other times she didn't feel anything close to what women wrote about and described online.

 _'Does anyone else find they can't get enough sex?'_

 _'I could have sex all day. My poor DH can't even keep up!'_

 _'I heard that increased sex drive means I'm having a boy. Anyone hear the same thing?'_

When Anna was pregnant the first time, she quietly asked Dr. Ryder about whether it was safe to have sex. Back then, she was more worried about Alex's needs than her own. She didn't want to put him off for nine months, and she also didn't know how he would feel about sex as her body changed. Right from the beginning, she found she was more eager than usual, and that he had no reservations. They had taken full advantage.

After her miscarriage, she wondered if he would ever want to touch her again, or if she would let him.

Once she got pregnant this second time, she hoped he would still want her the same way as before, and that she would welcome his touch in the same way. They had been through so much, and she wanted his attention and comfort, a reminder that it he would always want her regardless of what she looked like. Thankfully, her libido had increased noticeably, and he was as reliable as ever.

The first weeks of her second trimester had reached a new level altogether.

She had read that having twins brought new complications, and so she checked with Dr. Ryder again. While the doctor confirmed that twins required a bit more monitoring compared to a single baby, she pronounced that Anna and the babies were in great health, and there would be no reason to limit herself at all.

That was all she needed to hear.

Throughout her marriage, it was Alex who was the needy one. He was far more affectionate, playful, and most definitely the far more randy of the two of them. Lately, though, she was doing her utmost to challenge him for that title. They were making love at least twice a night, usually once when she woke up from her kip after dinner, and again late in the evening. He had gone ahead and researched the most comfortable positions to accommodate her, and rather than wear him out, she seemed to be stoking his hunger with her own. It was to the point where she felt sorry for her fellow new mums-to-be online. Those who didn't see an increase in "activity" were missing out, and those whose husbands couldn't keep up with their needs were unfortunate. She didn't suffer in either area.

Weekends, particularly days like today when they had nothing planned, could get particularly out of hand.

He took their bottles and placed them on the counter, a teasing smirk on his lips.

She quirked her eyebrow at him and wordlessly took his hand, leading him out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom. While they had tested out other rooms and pieces of furniture during the past weeks, she still preferred the bed. It was far more comfortable.

"Phones off," she commanded, letting go of his hand and turning off her mobile before putting it down on the nightstand.

"Shutdown," he confirmed, doing the same with his.

"Windows," she continued, nodding towards the open curtains on the far side of the room.

"Closing," he stated, going over and drawing the sheer drapes across the glass.

"Wait here," she ordered, motioning towards the bed. "Get your clothes off."

He grinned as he watched her go into the ensuite bathroom and close the door behind her. Shaking his head, he removed his clothes and made himself comfortable on the bed, his eager eyes watching the door to the washroom.

Early in their marriage, Alex didn't know very much about pregnancy. He and Anna had agreed they would have children together, but his knowledge of what actually happened to a woman during pregnancy was minimal. Obviously, he knew her body would change, but he was confident that wouldn't affect his feelings towards her. Anna was gorgeous to him, and pregnancy only reinforced that. Watching her petite frame become more voluptuous was actually quite thrilling. Her fuller breasts and hips, the glow of her skin, just the idea that she was carrying his children stirred his arousal.

They had already made it well past the point when she suffered her miscarriage the last time. She had an obvious baby bump now, which he loved. Touching her there, stroking and caressing her, even speaking to the twins through her stomach felt intimate and precious. Not all aspects of pregnancy were enjoyable, of course. Anna was often uncomfortable and grumpy as a result, but they tried to enjoy the parts that they could, and he tried to help her through the rest, even if it meant leaving her alone.

The way she was feeling and acting at the moment though, he did not anticipate leaving her along for the rest of the day.

The door to the washroom slowly opened and she came back out into the bedroom. His eyes lit up at the sight of her, his smile baring his teeth.

She stood in the doorway, her black panties and bra framing her new curves. From the early days of their dating, she never was reluctant to wear revealing clothes and sexy lingerie for him. She loved how much he appreciated her body. It felt more exciting now, and empowering to be so bold in letting him know exactly what she wanted, that she could be both a mother and temptress all at once.

Her long blonde hair was tied up in a high ponytail, a style he loved. His reaction was quite obvious as she moved towards the bed. Sitting back against the pillows, legs spread, stroking himself slowly, his confidence bordered on arrogance, but she loved that about him. Admittedly, she smirked, it was a rather persuasive move.

"You're so sexy," he grinned as she eased herself on to the bed and crawled over to him. Taking hold of her head, he drew her in and kissed her softly.

She hummed in pleasure as his hands moved down and around to her back, unhooking her bra and casting it aside. Their kiss deepened and she leaned into him, turning her head to let him tease her neck with his tongue.

"You love how big they are now, don't you?" she giggled, her own hands moving down to massage his sides.

"I love all of you," he replied between kisses, his fingers moving below the waistband of her panties to squeeze her bottom. "I love these, and these, and these…"

She laughed as he listed and touched all the parts of her that he loved. His voice caught as she took hold of him and stroked him slowly.

"Do you want to know what I love about you, babes?" she asked, kissing his shoulder. "I love how you make me feel as if I'm the best you've ever had."

"You are," he rasped, his head falling back as she built him up. "Oh fuck, love, you're amazing."

She grinned at that. She knew that she most certainly wasn't nearly as incredible as he claimed, but he made her feel as if she was. Something about how devoted, and open, and explicit he was with his praise of her made her believe it. He wanted her over all others. Always her.

"Babes? I want to do something special for you," she whispered, steadying her hand to not push him too far too quickly.

"Okay," he nodded, barely able to keep his eyes open.

She laughed sultrily and kissed him before reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out a silk blindfold.

"Are you sure?" he asked, staring at her in wonder as she handed it to him.

"It's so much more intense," she smiled playfully.

He nodded, his pulse jumping as he brought the black silk up to her face, wrapping it around her head and pulling it over her closed eyes. She immediately felt a jolt of arousal at losing her vision, her hips squirming with need when he turned her around and gently pushed her down to the bed.

Turning her on to her side, he placed a pillow against her belly for support, the tender gesture making her crave him even more. She moaned and squirmed under his attentions. His mouth and fingers played with her breasts and tickled her stomach. He kissed his way up her back to her neck, moving all over her, every touch a surprise, ever kiss and lick working her into a higher state of desperation.

"Alex," she called, her back arched, her head turned against the soft pillow.

"Yes, love?" he answered, his voice sounding far away above the rush of blood flowing through her veins.

"Please," she begged, gasping when she felt him raise her leg and move it forward, opening her up. "Fuck me now!"

He laughed darkly and circled his arms around her from behind, drawing her hands together and holding them against her chest. She felt his firm body against her back. She breathed in sharply as he pushed against her, his length teasing her before stopping, touching ever so close to where she wanted him, but staying just out of reach.

"Oh God, please!" she whinged, throwing her head back against his shoulder. Her arms were trapped in his hold, her attempts to thrust back to take him futile. She cursed, and pleaded, and promised him anything, all in a frantic search for the bliss he could give her. Even without her sight, she could still picture his triumphant smile, his excitement at seeing her reduced to a quivering mess.

"Show me, love," he said lightly, releasing her hands and reaching up to fondle her breasts. "Show me what you want."

She whimpered and reached back between them to take hold of him, a smile of her own crossing her lips when he grunted at her firm grip. With deliberate intent, she guided him towards her, stroking him once before fitting him in place.

"Mmm," she moaned throatily as he pushed in slowly and withdrew. "Fuck me, babes."

"Get ready," he snarled. He paused for a second and she held her breath. He finally thrust inside of her and she shouted.

"Yes!" she called, the blindfold covering her world in darkness, enhancing the warm feel of his taller frame spooned behind her, the sound of their bodies coming together, and the sensation of him filling her more and more.

Any control he pretended to have slipped away immediately as she squeezed around him, taking all of him again and again. The quickly found a rhythm, shifting and moving back and forth. He reached around and covered her stomach. Her hand joined his and linked their fingers together, holding tight.

He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her cheek, finally finding her mouth when she turned her head towards him. He felt her tighten around him as her moans grew louder and more ragged. She heard him command her to let go and she released, shaking in his hold while he kept taking her over and over.

She felt him move, the heat of his body suddenly leaving her. Frowning in confusion, her heartbeat still racing, she turned her head, the blindfold still making it impossible for her to see.

"Oh fuck!" she cried out as he raised her legs, turned her on to her back and thrust back inside, the new angle giving him greater access to her, touching spots that he knew would drive her mad. He held her legs together against his chest, sitting up to keep his weight off of her and lifting her hips up so she wasn't lying flat on her back.

The tremors from her first peak soon built into a second. She stretched her arms out to her sides, grabbing handfuls of the bedsheets while he kept on with unrelenting power.

"So good! So good! You're so fucking good!" she hissed, her moans urging him on until she went over again. He moved faster, chasing his own release, unloading only after she asked for it.

As they both floated back down, he withdrew, lowered her legs and removed the blindfold, mindful of her comfort. She smiled and kissed his hand, looking up at him dazedly.

"Mmm, well that was hot," she laughed.

He smiled and nodded, reaching down and caressing her cheek. "You good?"

"Very," she smirked.

"I'll go and run your bath," he stated, kissing her lightly before getting out of bed.

She sighed in pleasure, smoothing her hand over her naked belly and relaxing as she heard the water running in the bathroom.

 **Home of Mary and Matthew Crawley, Hollywood Hills, California, USA, January 20, 2019**

Mary placed her grocery bags on the kitchen island and began unpacking, organizing the items before stowing them away in the fridge or cupboards. Normally she relied upon Anna or a delivery service to deal with such a task, but part of getting acclimated to Los Angeles was finding out where to get certain items. Matthew enjoyed discovering new places, whether it be a butchers for the best prosciutto, or a market for gorgeous fruit. They had a list of preferred spots now, stores they went to for particular items, and doing the grocery run was relaxing, she found.

It also helped calm her nerves before seeing her husband again, because she was this close to throttling him on sight.

The advantage, depending on one's perspective, of having grown up with Matthew before falling in love and marrying him, was that there were very little secrets between them. Mary had numerous filters, depending on her audience and the social setting, but with Matthew she tended to blast first, and ask questions never. He was the one person in the world most accustomed to her moods, mannerisms, and idiosyncrasies. Whereas some newlyweds would try and resist arguments and fights, try and take a moment to calm down before discussing a point of contention, she seldom held back. While they were both stubborn people, they did agree that it was best to deal with conflict head-on, rather than let it fester beneath hollow pleasantries.

As she heard the alarm system chirp, announcing that the garage door was opening, her eyes narrowed. No, there would be no pleasantries anytime soon.

Matthew came into the kitchen moments later, sweaty and dishevelled. His hair was mussed from removing his bicycle helmet, and his jersey was unzipped, revealing his bare chest. He placed his empty water bottles in the sink and turned for the fridge. He opened the door and frowned, searching for something and not finding it.

"Do we have any…" he began, turning around to face her across the island.

"Chocolate milk," she said crisply, taking the jug out of the bag and placing it on the island before him.

He blinked. "Great. I should have asked you to pick up some…"

"Bananas, strawberries, organic honey, protein powder," she recited as she took out each item and passed them over to him.

"Thanks," he said slowly, looking over everything before fetching a glass and pouring himself a chocolate milk. After draining the glass, he got out a knife and bowl and began cutting the fruit for his smoothie.

She took out her phone and perused her messages, unwilling to start the conversation.

"How was the rest of brunch?" he asked, taking the blender out of the cupboard and plugging it in on the counter.

"Fine. I ran into Xavier shortly after you left," she replied, not looking at him.

He frowned and turned back to her. "You did? What's he doing here?"

"Meeting with industry people," she shrugged. "We had a nice chat. He's coming back for the _Orlena_ premiere next month."

"Of course he is," he grumbled. "Did he try and sway you to doing another film with Paul?"

"He did," she confirmed, setting her phone down and looking over at him. "I told him that I had other options that I was considering."

"I'm sure that wasn't very well received," he noted tightly, placing the cut fruit into the blender and adding milk, honey, and several scoops of protein powder.

"He was a bit annoyed, yes. I'm finding that's a common reaction when it comes to men wondering what my next move is," she stated tersely, arching her eyebrow at him.

He looked up. "Is there anyone else annoyed by your decision making, or lack thereof, then?"

She pursed her lips. "Why don't you tell me?"

He held her glare for a moment before looking away and putting the lid on the blender. "I wouldn't know."

"Is that why you left in a huff this morning?" she demanded. "That was you showing indifference, was it?"

He ran the blender for far longer than he had to, letting the whir of the appliance delay his response for a while.

"I had a headache. I wanted to go lie down," he said simply, taking the pitcher off the blender and pouring the smoothie into a glass.

"You seem to have miraculously recovered if you were able to spend all afternoon out training and riding," she noted caustically. "Are you not even going to acknowledge how sarcastic and dismissive you were at brunch, then?"

"Was your Aunt Rosamund disappointed in me?" he asked.

"She didn't say it in so many words, but I'm sure she noticed your petulance," she nodded.

"Well, I didn't have very far to fall in her eyes as it was," he offered, sipping his smoothie.

"If this is about Henry, I already told you…" she continued.

"It's not about Henry," he interrupted, keeping his voice steady. "I meant what I said. You have some interesting opportunities to consider, and each project has its benefits."

"Why were you so quick to take yours out of the running, then? You spoke of _Damocles_ as if it wasn't an option at all," she accused him.

"It's not," he shook his head, leveling his blue eyes at her. "There's no script, no studio, no financing, and no cast. How could it possibly compete?"

"Except that it has you," she remarked.

He looked away and took another sip. "That's hardly impressed you before."

Her mouth fell open in shock. "I beg your pardon?"

He placed his empty glass in the sink. "Clearly there are better options available to you than working with me on a movie that doesn't yet exist. Better that you focus on deciding between Henry's CIA thriller, Sam's World War II drama, and whatever it is that Paul may be planning for you."

"That's probably right, but that doesn't mean I couldn't do _Damocles_ afterwards. By then you might have arranged for everything and it would be ready to go," she said.

He gave her a wry smile. "Maybe, but then again, I might go and do another film and just leave it for later. If it happens, it happens."

She frowned at his answer. "You were so enthusiastic about it just last week. You've already gotten decent feedback from your meetings, you said. What changed?"

"Nothing," he replied. "I just can't say when it's going to be ready, so I didn't want to burden you with keeping it on your plate when you've got all these other wonderful offers on the go."

She rolled her eyes. "So it is about Henry. I respect your decision to never work with him again, and perhaps if I had the luxury of being in demand at the same level as you, I would choose the same. The fact is that I'm trying to claw my way back in here, and I can't just reject him in absolute terms, particularly when he has Fox behind him."

"No, you've made it perfectly clear where you stand in that regard," he nodded.

She sneered at him. "For God's sake! Out with it! What's bothering you? You up and left me this morning with barely a word, stayed away all afternoon, and now you're speaking in passive aggressive gibberish! I was hoping we would spend the day together."

"Why is that? Did you have plans for us?" he asked.

"Nothing definitive, but I thought we could just hang out and see where the day took us," she replied. "It's Sunday and the weather was lovely this afternoon. We could have gotten up to all manner of things."

"That's the peculiar thing about plans. They don't always work out the way you thought in the beginning," he said coldly.

She leaned on the island and narrowed her eyes at him. "Matthew, talk. Now."

He regarded her for a moment before replying. "It's nothing. I just decided today during brunch while I was listening to you wax poetic about these other films, that I'm going to go ahead and develop _Damocles_ without you in mind. I had a few ideas about how your character would fit into the story and what role she would play, but I'm going to just write the film that I want to make, and once the script is done, I'll see who I want to be in it."

"What crime have I committed that I'm no longer worthy of your project?" she asked.

"No crime at all. It's as I said. You've helped me see how the real world works, and so I'm forging ahead with that in mind," he answered.

"You're mad at me for not putting your project first?" she questioned. "Come now, I was considering it, and I still am!"

"That's kind of you, but I'm afraid that a director needs to be able to rely on his actors," he stated.

She blinked. "And I'm not reliable?"

"Not when it comes to working with me, apparently," he responded.

"You've got a nerve! What else did you want me to do? Turn down anything and everything while I waited with bated breath for you to develop _Damocles_ to the point where it might actually go ahead this year? That's ridiculous!" she argued.

He scoffed. "No, I would never expect you to bet on me when it comes to the business."

She stared at him with genuine disbelief. "I have no idea what you expect me to say to such utter nonsense."

He laughed bitterly. "What would you do if Paul, or Sam, or Sofia Coppola, or Steven Soderbergh came calling? What would be your answer if they just happened to say 'hey, Mary, I've got something in the pipeline for you. There's no script yet, but I want you to be in it'? I'll tell you what – you would keep your schedule clear for them because that's what you've done over and over again."

"Of course! It would be huge for me to work with any one of them, particularly since in the case of Paul and Sam, I already know I'd be the lead in a major film," she retorted.

"Fair enough. However, when you choose to block off your time for the hope of working on a big project, that means you no longer have the time to do anything else. You now have the infamous 'scheduling conflict' which leads to you being pulled from other films you were up for. In the case of _Damocles_ , that means you can't be in it," he shrugged, his tone still calm.

"But I already told you that it might work out timing-wise," she huffed.

"Until something better comes along that just happens to be filming at the same time, some project with a bigger name, a better script, a nicer catering service, whatever. That's the point, Mary. You're not reliable. I'm never going to be able to develop a project with the idea that you'll be in it because I'll never be completely confident that you will be. You can't stand there and tell me that you will 100%, guaranteed, be in my movie after you're done working with Henry, or Sam, or Paul, or whoever. You can say that you'd like to be and that if things work out, it would be fun, but you can't promise me anything, so I've decided to stop expecting that from you."

She looked at him incredulously, his words leaving an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. "Saying we'll never work together again is rather dramatic, don't you think? It could happen again."

"Maybe," he nodded. "If the stars align as they did on _Shattered_ , then maybe we will. We'll just have to see. For my part, I'm going to stop trying to make it happen, because clearly whatever I'm doing isn't working."

She sighed in exasperation. "It isn't as if I'm deliberately choosing other projects over you, you know."

He frowned at her. "No, you're not trying to do it on purpose. It's just turning out that way, that's all."

"So that's it, then? I'm banned from consideration just like that?" she demanded.

He shook his head. "Darling, you're my wife, and I love you. I want you to have the most incredible career and receive all the roles and accolades that you deserve. When you ask for it, I'll give you my opinion, such as how I don't think you should ever work with Henry again. However, whatever you decide, I will support you. When it comes to my projects, though, there's nothing else I can do. I will never have a better year than I did last year. I'm never going to win a Golden Globe, a SAG Award and an Oscar in the same year again. I'm never going to work on films that pull in nearly a billion dollars in revenue in a single year. I'm never going to shoot a movie in a month and get Sony to take it on just like that. This was the best year of my career, and it still wasn't good enough for you. That's fine, really. I'm not angry about it, and I'm not saying you owe me anything just because we're married. When I listened to you speaking to Rosamund this morning about all these other projects and how they would all benefit your career and so on, I realized that, professionally, there's always going to be something better out there for you. So, it's better if you continue to make the decisions that you think are best for you, and I'll do the same for me. No worries."

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"I'm going to go jump in the shower. We're still going out tonight for drinks with those publicists that want you to make an appearance at Coachella for their clients, yes?" he asked, heading for the hallway.

"Yes," she answered, frowning at his retreating back.

"Good. My headache's gone, so I'm all right to tag along," he called, leaving her behind in the kitchen.

She stared at the empty doorway, her mind still trying to process what had just happened.

 **Drake Stadium, UCLA, Los Angeles, California, USA, January 22, 2019**

"God, I fucking hate running," Matthew complained, taking deep breaths, his hands on his hips as he walked slowly down the track.

"You need some variety in your workouts," Alex joked, walking along with him, noticeably less tired. "You can't just bike around all the time."

"Sure I can," Matthew shrugged, swallowing and exhaling sharply. "It's easier on the knees and the scenery is far more enjoyable."

Alex smirked at him and nodded towards the group of fit student-athletes jogging past them.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean, Dad."

Alex laughed and tapped fists with him. "For someone who was nominated for an Oscar this morning, you're in a pretty pissy mood. Just two more sets, okay, precious?"

Matthew sighed. "Right, right."

"You are just a little bit happy, aren't you?" Alex asked, glancing over at him curiously.

"Sure I am," Matthew grunted. "I'm just not getting my hopes up. Losing the Golden Globe doesn't bode well, and besides, winning in back-to-back years never happens."

"Probably right," Alex agreed. "It'll give you something to do besides present, anyway."

"True," Matthew mumbled.

The Academy Award nominations were announced at 5:30 a.m. that morning, to accommodate the East Coast news outlets, mainly. He wanted to sleep through them, but Mary had turned on the television to watch. Her squeal, and his phone immediately blowing up with texts and calls told him he was nominated for Best Actor, a huge accomplishment that initially stunned him. He didn't have much time to process it before he was talking to Sybil, Joe, his mother, Cora and Robert, as well as replying to dozens of texts. Wide awake as adrenaline kicked in, he was more than ready when Mary stripped his clothes off and gave him her own special congratulations.

After breakfast, she left for meetings and he met up with Alex for training. While he hadn't yet decided what project he was going to do next, the films he was considering were all going to require that he be in decent shape. Alex had suggested they change things up and come to the track today, much to his chagrin, but he followed along, and was now suffering through a series of 200 metre sprints for his trouble.

"How's Anna doing?" Matthew asked as they stopped near the start line of their next sprint and stretched out their legs.

"Good. She's having a spa day with some of the Brits in town," Alex replied, holding his foot up behind him to stretch his quad.

"Any idea when you'll head back up to Toronto?" Matthew asked.

"I think we'd like to be there from the six-month mark on, at the latest," Alex nodded. "I hear that last trimester flies. Besides, with twins, you have to be a bit more vigilant, so being at home with her doctor and close to the hospital is better."

"Would you ever consider moving here, do you think?" Matthew asked, finishing up his stretches.

"Live in L.A. long term? No," Alex shook his head emphatically. "Weather's nice, but air quality isn't great. Toronto's closer to London, we're far more settled there, and looking forward, schools are better, healthcare is better, and we want the children to be Canadian, anyway."

"Anna thinks the same way, I take it?" Matthew questioned.

Alex nodded. "We've joked about moving. We've spent less time in Toronto than anywhere else the past couple of years, and the housing market is insane. We would make a killing on the house now. Toronto is home, and it's where we want to raise our family. We're lucky that we don't need to move to work, or anything like that."

Matthew nodded in understanding.

"Why? Aren't you going back to London once awards season is over?" Alex enquired.

Matthew shrugged. "That's the plan, as far as I know, but Mary's proving to be rather popular over here. She's taking more meetings, going out to more events, and is just more in demand here than she ever was in Paris, and that's after all the problems she had before. For people in the industry, this is still the place to be. We can always video conference and whatever, but being physically here has its advantages."

"Until she has to go film on location in Croatia or Morocco, or somewhere," Alex noted. "I've always thought that your base should be more about where your life is most comfortable. You can always travel for work. In fact, in your field, you have to. Home is more than just where you can take the most meetings."

"True," Matthew said tightly, lining up on the start line.

"On three," Alex called, setting the timer on his wristwatch. "One, two, go!"

They both took off down the track, arms pumping, legs churning, eyes on the finish line far in the distance.

 **Home of Mary Crawley and Matthew Crawley, Hollywood Hills, California, USA, January 24, 2019**

" _Marie_ , I've got an idea for a different strategy," Jean-Paul stated, his smiling image filling the tablet screen. "Now that we're premiering _Orlena_ in Los Angeles, I want to handle the promotion differently than we did over here."

Mary arched her eyebrow. "How so?"

"I've consulted with some marketing people in Hollywood. I want to build some buzz around the premiere. We already have a press junket scheduled, but I want to get you out there both before and after the movie releases," he advised.

She nodded. "That sounds good, but Rosamund wasn't able to book me on any of the talk shows over here."

He shook his head. "No, and that is unfortunate, but there are still ways. We can have you attend events, do local media, and just make sure you're more visible. Anytime you're photographed, it usually gets picked up by the larger websites. We can take advantage of that. Whether you are just out shopping, going to watch the basketball, seen having lunch, anything that involves you, they will need to mention the movie, and that will help create the buzz that we want."

"What does Paul think of this strategy?" she asked.

"He is indifferent," he laughed. "You know him. He wants to just get through the premiere and get out of America as fast as he can. Besides, he is working on his next film. He wants to impress you."

She laughed. "I hope that Xavier told him that I have other options."

"He did," he nodded. "That's fine. We are all very competitive."

"So I've learned," she smiled.

"There is another thing, _Marie_ ," he continued. "I think it would be best if we focused on you, rather than you and your husband as a couple."

She frowned. "You don't want me to make appearances with Matthew?"

"No, that is not it," he shook his head. "The two of you are a known couple, yes. There is nothing wrong with the two of you being seen together. It is just that the focus, the attention should be on you. You are the star of our film, the one that we want at the front. I know he will be at the premiere, and I look forward to seeing him again. When you walk the red carpet, it should be just you. When you do interviews, it is just you. He can come along afterwards, and there is nothing stopping you from accompanying him to his events. It is just that the more you are photographed together, there is less room to mention the film. It becomes 'Mary and Matthew' above everything else. That is not what we want."

She nodded slowly. "I see."

"I hope this will not be a problem for you, or for him?" he questioned.

"Not at all," she shook her head and smiled reassuringly. "Our careers are our own. We have plenty of time together in private. As you say, we don't need it to be all about the two of us in public."

"Excellent," he smiled. "I'll have my people coordinate with Lady Rosamund and set up a schedule for you. This will be very good. If we can have a big crowd for the premiere, it will draw interest across the world, which is exactly what we want. By the time that _Duplicity_ comes out, your name will be everywhere."

She smiled, her eyes brightening at the possibilities.

 **SAG Awards Post-Awards Gala, Shrine Exposition Center, Los Angeles, California, January 27, 2019**

"So does it feel different from last year?"

Matthew laughed, hefting the solid bronze Actor trophy for Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Leading Role. He nodded to yet another colleague congratulating him on his victory. "Hard to say. I'll have to hold both of them at the same time and see."

The actor laughed and clapped him on the back before moving on. It had been like this ever since his name was read out during the ceremony and he blinked in shock. Kissing Mary quickly, he went up on stage to accept his award, smiling sheepishly through an acceptance speech he never expected to have to give.

At the beginning of the evening, when he was just going to the show to present an award, he planned on making a token appearance at the after-party and heading home shortly afterward. Mary had to spend time with Xavier and some of her other connections, but she wasn't up for staying out all night. Her schedule had been quite busy lately with more meetings, interviews, appearances and planned 'spontaneous' publicity events. They wouldn't need to schmooze for very long before they could leave, or so they thought.

That plan was now changed. Winning did that.

Mary was off somewhere enjoying herself, while he remained at his station, showing off the trophy, accepting congratulations, and smiling in the spotlight he was still surprised to be under.

"You know this makes you one of the favourites for the Oscar now," someone mentioned.

"I'm not thinking about that," he shook his head. "The SAG is voted by the actors, not the Academy. I'm still shocked to have won, but I don't think it means anything for the Oscar."

* * *

"You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" Mary asked with a smile.

Xavier chuckled and nodded to her, leaning closer to be heard above the dance music. "You know how much I enjoy a good party."

She laughed and nodded before taking another sip of champagne.

"You seem to be quite happy, _Marie_ ," he noted, glancing over her designer dress and glittering jewellery. "Being back in Hollywood seems to agree with you."

"It's gone better than I expected," she confirmed. "I'm looking forward to bringing _Orlena_ here."

"As am I," he nodded. "Though I hope you aren't being seduced by the glamour of this place that you'll turn your back on us."

She shook her head teasingly. "That hasn't happened yet. I'm still evaluating my options. Besides, when it comes to glamour, it's hard to beat Paris, rather, isn't it?"

"I hope so," he smirked knowingly.

* * *

"Be sure and check in with Joe tomorrow," Alex advised, putting his arm around Matthew's shoulders.

"Why?" Matthew asked, looking at him curiously.

"I would bet that Sony is going to be putting in a call to him, if they haven't already," Alex explained. "You've now won them four major awards in just over a year. They would be insane to let you go to take _Damocles_ to another studio without at least securing first look."

Matthew chuckled and shook his head. "I doubt that my treatment is much of a priority for them, or that I wield such power with one of the biggest studios in the world."

"Look, I can't quite understand it either, but the fact is that you're a star now," Alex smiled, only half-joking. "All of your films have made a ton of money, and you haven't had the benefit of a big tentpole film, besides _Black Panther_ , which doesn't really count as yours anyway. You're proving that last year wasn't just a fluke."

"Until _10 Days_ bombs," he noted. "Once that happens, I'll be back on the heap with everyone else."

Alex laughed and shook his head. "Why do you always assume that things will go wrong, no matter how good things are?"

Matthew shrugged. "Force of habit, I guess."

"Well, change that habit," Alex nodded. "One supporting role may have been luck. A one-off in a Marvel film may have been good timing. Sorry to tell you, but you've now got yourself a career."

"Shit," Matthew groaned dramatically. "Are you sure about that?"

"Sad, but true," Alex smiled.

They slapped hands twice and tapped fists before Alex left to go take Anna home.

* * *

"What a great night, huh? I'm so happy for Matthew!"

Mary smiled and nodded, sipping her champagne while people passed all around her, offering her their good wishes, or just saying hello. Even though she was just Matthew's wife here, she was having a blast. She no longer saw everyone else here as judging her on past scandals and gossip. That storm seemed to have passed. Her career wasn't yet back to the level that it was before she was banished to France, but she felt she was back on track now, and celebrating at a posh party with Hollywood's elite and privileged was great fun.

"What are your plans? You're sticking around until the Oscars, surely?"

Mary laughed. "Most definitely. We both have premieres next month, as well."

"That's cool! You should think about relocating here! I have an amazing agent who could help you find a great place."

Mary arched her eyebrow in response. "Well, we've had a wonderful time here so far, but our base is in London."

"Sure, sure. Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know! He's amazing. He found me my house, and two or three of my friends', too."

Mary nodded and took another drink as she enjoyed the music and party atmosphere all around her.

* * *

"It's a good thing that we wrapped on all the press stuff," Matthew smiled. "All that's left is walking the red carpet and smiling for the cameras."

"How about you lighten up a bit?" Rooney teased, laughing at him. "You just won a fucking SAG Award. Come on! Enjoy it! We can talk about the premiere next month when it comes up. Tonight is about celebrating your win."

He gave her a mocking smile and waved his trophy around. "Woohoo! Look at me!"

She laughed and slapped his shoulder. "You're such a nerd."

He laughed and gave her a quick hug before a group of her friends came over and pulled her away to the bar. He glanced around, the crowd beginning to thin a bit as people began leaving to head out to other after-parties. He was supposed to drop by a few of them. Usually, award winners were expected to make the rounds. He wasn't against doing a bit of a tour. This was one of the easier ways to run into people.

His eyes narrowed when he spied Mary a short distance away. She was speaking to Henry, the two of them likely discussing their next project. Shaking his head ruefully, he took a deep breath and headed over to rescue his wife. Feeling the weight of the trophy in his hand, he wondered if he could hit Henry hard enough to knock him down, but not actually do any real damage to him.

Perhaps it was lucky that he never got the chance. Before he arrived, Henry leant over and gave Mary a kiss on the cheek and left her. She turned and smiled just as Matthew reached her.

"Darling, there you are," she grinned. "Ready to move on to our next stop?"

"I am," he nodded, taking her hand. "Have you spoken to everyone you needed to?"

"Everyone important," she shrugged. "I just saw Henry. He said Fox wants to meet with me. Who knows if he's telling the truth."

"I suppose we'll see if Rosamund hears anything," he noted.

"It's not important for now," she smirked. "Tonight is your night. Where are we off to now?"

"The Netflix do first," he answered. "Rumour has it they have the best food."

"The most important factor," she laughed. "Shall we?"

He smiled and gave her a warm kiss, his hand reaching around and caressing her back. "Yes, let's."

She squeezed his hand and followed him towards the exit and their waiting car.


	17. Chapter 17

**Previously:**

 **SAG Awards Post-Awards Gala, Shrine Exposition Center, Los Angeles, California, January 27, 2019**

"Darling, there you are," she grinned. "Ready to move on to our next stop?"

"I am," he nodded, taking her hand. "Have you spoken to everyone you needed to?"

"Everyone important," she shrugged. "I just saw Henry. He said Fox wants to meet with me. Who knows if he's telling the truth?"

"I suppose we'll see if Rosamund hears anything," he noted.

"It's not important for now," she smirked. "Tonight is your night. Where are we off to now?"

"The Netflix do first," he answered. "Rumour has it they have the best food."

"The most important factor," she laughed. "Shall we?"

He smiled and gave her a warm kiss, his hand reaching around and caressing her back. "Yes, let's."

She squeezed his hand and followed him towards the exit and their waiting car.

 **Chapter 17:**

 **Theater One, DGA Theater Complex, West Hollywood, California, February 7, 2019**

"Before we begin tonight, I know everyone is very anxious to see this incredible, incredible film but first, I want to call the cast up to the stage to say a few words. We, of course, have the wonderful Rooney Mara here with us. Rooney plays the lead character of Josephine…"

Mary applauded politely as the female studio executive waved Rooney up on stage. Rooney wore a sheepish grin along with her white Chanel cocktail dress and matching Louboutin heels. She took a microphone and stood by as the studio executive continued.

"And of course, we have our Oscar-winning lead actor, making his directorial debut. I just want to say that this is the third film that we've done with him in just over a year, and each one has absolutely blown me away. All of us at Sony cannot wait to see what else he has in store for us. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Matthew Crawley."

Mary smiled as Mathew came out from the back and joined Rooney on stage. He ran his hand through his hair, as he always did when he was nervous, and gave the audience an embarrassed wave. He shook his head when everyone rose to their feet to give him a standing ovation, and he urged them to sit back down when the studio executive urged him to speak.

"Thank you, everyone, really, thank you," he muttered, sharing a smile with Rooney. "Well, what to say? I was very lucky with this picture. I didn't quite know what I was doing, and so it all could have gone quite badly if I hadn't gotten a lot of help from a lot of talented people, including the brilliant woman standing up here with me, who agreed to work for very little money."

The audience laughed as Rooney rolled her eyes.

"I have to thank Sony for taking a chance on me, and on my little project here. You know, it's terribly clichéd for an actor to want to direct, and when you add in that I wrote the script also, well, that's a combination that any studio would run far away from. I'm very grateful for their support, as well as all of the cast and crew. We filmed the entire thing in a little over a month in Toronto, and I think it's normal to worry about such a tight schedule, because maybe everyone will rush to get through it, and the performances will suffer. Honestly, though, I think that extra bit of pressure really brought out the best in all of us. Everyone was so professional and dedicated. I had an absolute blast, and I hope you all enjoy it," he nodded.

Mary looked around the packed theatre. The venue was more of an industry location for movie premieres. Larger scale films used the El Capitain, or the ubiquitous Chinese Theatre just a few minutes away. Matthew's directorial debut attracted hundreds of industry types and groups of dogged fans, but it wasn't anywhere near the numbers who came to see _The Disciple_ even. Still, she was impressed by the power brokers in the audience. These executives and agents didn't come out to just any premiere, particularly when it wasn't their studio or client involved. Their presence was an endorsement of Matthew's continued rising profile, and the curious interest in his movie.

"Can I get a quick comment from each of you on what it was like to make this movie? You've worked together before. Was this any different?" the executive asked.

Rooney and Matthew looked at each other before she answered first.

"We got to have sex this time, which we didn't do in _The Disciple_ , since we were playing brother and sister in that one, and it wasn't that kind of movie," Rooney shrugged.

Matthew chuckled along with everyone else.

"It was just really easy like Matthew said," she continued. "It was a small cast, which I like, and there was a really good rapport between everyone from the first day. The movie is about this complex relationship. We're in pretty much every scene together, so it helped that we had worked on another movie before, to have that familiarity. I always get accused of not having good chemistry with whoever I'm acting with, so that won't be the case this time, I hope!"

The studio executive laughed. "And you, Matthew?"

He nodded. "I was so terrified of screwing up the entire time that I didn't really have a chance to stop and think about what was going on, but having Rooney in the movie helped loads. I barely had to tell her what to do. I think that for me, the whole process felt so new and each day was sort of like entering uncharted waters. When I was editing the movie, it felt like I was watching the scenes for the first time in a way, because when we were filming I always had a million things on the go at once. The script came from a story idea that I had from a long time ago, and to see it actually come to life was at times both startling and immensely rewarding. I don't really know what the world will think of it, but honestly, I love it. It became something far different than what I envisioned when I first wrote it, and it's just fantastic to see it come to life."

Mary watched from her seat, regarding her husband curiously as he spoke so animatedly about his movie.

"Rooney, you always do such a wonderful job of playing these complicated characters, and many times they are damaged in some way. Can you tell us a bit about Josephine?"

"Umm, well, she's actually one of the most normal characters I've ever played," Rooney smiled. "I liked her a lot, though. She really grows and matures over the course of the film. She goes from being this woman who is happy and in love, sort of without a care in the world, to developing a real inner strength and resolve when she faces this huge challenge. Matthew was really great about changing the dialogue and being open to new ideas. This was one of the most collaborative films I've ever done, and considering it was his first time directing, I was really impressed. He gave all of us a lot of freedom, but not in a way that he didn't care, or was too scared to tell us what he wanted. It was more he had his idea of how each scene was supposed to go, but he was open to suggestions and working together to make the scene better, and I felt a lot of ownership for both my character and my part in telling the story, which was great."

Mary's eyes shifted from Matthew to Rooney and back again.

"Well, let's get on with it, then," he stated. "Everyone, this is _10 Days_."

The audience applauded and Rooney and Matthew took their seats. She sat down next to her sister and boyfriend, and Matthew returned to Mary. As the lights dimmed, he reached out and took her hand. She squeezed his fingers lightly and rested her head on his shoulder as the first guitar notes of Jack Ross' score began playing and the opening credits appeared on screen. When _'Directed by Matthew Crawley'_ appeared, she smiled.

 **L.A. Live, Los Angeles, California, February 12, 2019**

For a rare time in his life, Matthew was glad for whatever level of celebrity he had obtained. He arrived at Mary's premiere for _Orlena_ with Alex, making a brief appearance on the red carpet and waving to fans before he was ushered inside. No interviews. No selfies. No autographs. Inside the theatre, his seat was part of the cordoned-off VIP section at the front, allowing him to avoid being approached. It wasn't that he was against interacting with other people – be they fans or those in the business, but this was Mary's night, her long delayed and much hoped for return to Hollywood, and he wanted to be as little of a distraction as possible.

"Anna all right?" he asked, glancing over at Alex, who was reading over his text messages on his phone.

"Fine," Alex nodded. "She can manage for now, but she'll be glad to get off her feet when she comes in."

"Though she won't admit it, surely?" Matthew smiled.

Alex smirked. "No, she's lost a lot of that British stoicism lately. She's a bit paranoid because miscarriages do tend to happen in the 19th week, particularly for twins, so she tells me everything and doesn't hold anything back. She says they must be fighting in there because she feels them moving around a lot."

Matthew nodded in understanding. "A girl and a boy. Well, you are nothing if not efficient."

"You act as if we're going to stop with just the two," Alex joked.

Matthew laughed and shook his head. "All right. We'll see what you think after they're born and you're getting no sleep. You've got one of each. Stop before you're outnumbered."

"How would you even know?" Alex asked. "You're an only child."

"Yes, but I saw enough of what it's like to have four children in the same house, and Downton is one of the few houses larger than yours. Robert and Cora still needed a full-time staff just to manage," he chuckled.

Alex huffed and shook his head.

"How do you think this will do over here?" Matthew asked, nodding towards the screen at the front.

"Opening weekend won't be nearly as big as yours was, I can tell you that," Alex replied. "You did $18 million. If they get a quarter of that, it'll be a success."

Matthew frowned. "Really? I thought they'd do better than that."

"Based on what?" Alex asked, looking at him incredulously. "They've got 1,000 screens, maybe, no awards show buzz, an average marketing campaign, and both Paul and Mary have niche followings at best. They'll make Xavier's money back when the worldwide run is over, but that's about it."

"I think Mary is hoping for more," Matthew remarked.

"Sure she is, but I can't see it. Maybe with _Duplicity_ , since there will be a more coordinated promotional effort and a worldwide release. This is basically just bringing a foreign film to the States, and it's not like it tore it up in Europe anyway," Alex concluded.

"Well, what's so special about _10 Days_? I never expected to make top 10 in the first weekend, let alone finish second," Matthew admitted.

Alex smiled. "You're an Oscar winner and you've gotten three months of free publicity because of awards season. You've been consistently mentioned all over the internet and television. Rooney may generally do independent and smaller films, but she's a known name, plus you're both coming off of a strong showing with _The Disciple_. Your audience skewed 60% female and 65% between the ages of 25-39. Those are huge numbers, plus you're Certified Fresh. That means the movie is going to have legs. You're looking at $80 million total, minimum."

"$80 million?!" Matthew blurted out.

Alex grinned and nodded. "Sony is rolling it out worldwide over the next two months. You've got an outside chance at doing $100 million, but it's hard to say. Romantic dramas don't always play well in other countries if they don't star domestic actors."

"Fuck. $80 million," Matthew shook his head.

"I'll do the math for you," Alex teased. "Thanks to having a genius lawyer to negotiate your financing and distribution deals, if _10 Days_ pulls in $80 million, that's at least $40 million in your pocket, Mr Writer/Director/Producer/Actor. The investors and Sony are pretty much all paid out now after that first weekend. Going forward, you get the biggest share of whatever else comes in."

Matthew blinked in shock.

"Not that you necessarily would have to, but with that bankroll, you could finance _Damocles_ yourself if you wanted to, and scoop an even bigger percentage of the profits," Alex smirked.

Matthew shook his head in disbelief. "Crikey."

Soon, the audience filed in, and by the time Mary arrived with Aline, Jimmy, Paul and other members of the cast, the theatre was full. Standing side-by-side up at the front, they all smiled while Jean-Paul came forward and took the microphone.

"Good evening everyone. My name is Jean-Paul. I am the executive producer for _Orlena_. Welcome to all of you."

"Executive producer?" Matthew whispered, a frown crossing his face. "Since when?"

"Since now, apparently," Alex replied. "They made the movie with his money, so he can call himself whatever he wants."

Xavier's tall figure stayed in the background, a few feet behind Mary. Matthew tried to ignore the politician's presence, though it seemed wherever he looked, one of Mary's admirers was ever present, hovering about her.

"We are so proud to bring our film here, a French film, with our esteemed director, Paul Chaput," Jean-Paul continued. " _Orlena_ is a story about a woman's self-discovery, about finding herself, about her struggle and her passion. It is a captivating story, an absorbing story, and was told so well by our wonderful cast. Our star, Mary Crawley, so amazing…"

The cast all turned and applauded Mary, and the audience quickly followed suit. Jean-Paul came over and kissed Mary's hand. She smiled and nodded, soaking up the adulation while he introduced the other actors.

"So, enjoy, everyone! Merci!" Jean-Paul exulted. The cast waved and took their seats, all of them sitting together in the first two rows of the theatre. Before the lights dimmed, Mary turned around and gave Matthew a playful wink. He smiled and nodded back to her.

"What are the chances that Paul made a special cut for the American audience?" Alex asked Matthew.

"If he did, it'll probably have a shot of him flipping the middle finger to the camera at some point," Matthew deadpanned.

"Shh," Anna admonished them.

Alex smirked and took her hand, kissing it lightly before keeping it in his lap.

The movie began and Matthew settled in, bracing himself for the string of love scenes he was about to watch of his wife having sex with three different people.

 **Casa Vega Restaurant, Sherman Oaks, California, February 13, 2019**

Mary removed her sunglasses as she walked into the decidedly rustic Mexican restaurant. The décor was from another era – wood beams on the ceiling, wood panelling on the walls, paintings of scenic Mexican landscapes, and Medieval-looking chandeliers. She was a bit overdressed in her blouse, skirt and Jimmy Choos. She could picture happy hour here being quite rowdy.

The host led her to the back, where the director and producer were sitting at a semi-circular leather-wrapped booth. She greeted both of the older men with a kiss to the cheek and took a seat, the host placing a napkin on her lap before departing.

"Any trouble getting here?" the director asked. "The Valley can be sort of confusing for new people."

"Not at all. I've heard so much about this place, actually," she smiled. "Their tacos are supposed to be delicious, aren't they?"

"I wouldn't know. We usually come here late at night and just have a ton of nachos and too many margaritas," the producer laughed.

She smiled and nodded along.

They ordered nachos, tacos and drinks. Mary picked at her food, not wanting to indulge too much. She was more interested in what these men had to say about the project, rather than the free meal.

"Are we expecting Henry as well?" she asked casually.

"He recommended you to us, but he's not involved in the actual casting," the director shook his head. "We both saw _Orlena_ a few months ago, and we were really impressed."

"Well, thank you," she nodded. So far, so good. As much as it was Henry's doing that she was up for this part, she didn't want him to have any actual decision-making power, and it seemed that he didn't. Better yet, they weren't insisting that she audition for the role, but rather would use this meeting to gauge how she fit into their plans. Most top actors never had to actually read for a part. Their names alone were enough to garner offers. Mary was below that tier, particularly after spending the last while in France. To get this chance without having to compete against all the other actresses queueing up for consideration was fortuitous, and she was cautiously optimistic.

"What did you think of the script?" the director asked.

She nodded. "It was rather complicated, which I liked. Nancy is an interesting character."

"She is," the producer nodded. "It's a role that we think has many layers. There's a lot of action. You'll be fighting, shooting guns, there're explosions and so on, but there are some more thoughtful and humorous moments, too. It's quite the story."

"It is," she agreed. "There was one scene that I found rather interesting."

"Which one was that?" the director asked.

"Where Nancy is captured and interrogated," she replied.

The producer and director shared a knowing glance. "It's a big turning point in the film, and in the relationship between the characters. Frank rescues Nancy and she goes from this bitter, aggressive woman to more human, more softer. They really become a team after that."

"I noticed that the tone of their relationship changes," she nodded. "The actual capture and interrogation is quite graphic, though. It reads as being very jarring."

"Definitely," the director confirmed. "It's important to show how much hatred the terrorists have towards women, particularly a strong and independent one like Nancy. They want to break her in every way."

"Which is why they tear her clothes?" she asked.

"It's a metaphor," the producer smiled. "Stripping her down, removing her defences. The first Act of the film is spent showing what a fighter she is, and the capture and interrogation is when she begins to crack. The terrorist really has his way with her. It's all quite hopeless, and that's important to give this visceral edge to the film. We can have all the shootouts and explosions that we want, but it's in this one-on-one battle that the audience understands just how dangerous it all is. We follow Nancy as she descends deeper and deeper, and gets closer to being defeated in the most devastating way."

"Allowing Frank to swoop in and save her just in time," she noted.

"It's a nice moment for him. He's selfish and egotistical up to that point, but when he sees she's in danger, he becomes more of a hero," the director commented.

"Henry should be able to pull that off," she nodded, taking a sip of water.

The men laughed.

"After we saw _Orlena_ , it helped us see so clearly how well-suited you are for this part," the producer smiled. "You showed tremendous range."

"Thank you," she replied.

"It was quite captivating," the director added. "How you went from this cold and unfeeling woman to more passionate and bold. Each of the different relationships you went through showed us a different side of you."

She arched her eyebrow. "I'm pleased to hear that you noticed."

"For sure we did," the producer smirked. "We're looking for you to bring that same raw emotion to this role. We think audiences will be very interested to see even more of you."

She nodded and continued to listen.

 **Penthouse of Alex and Anna Lewis, Hollywood Hills, California, February 14, 2017**

Anna snorted, pursing her lips and trying to hold back her laughter. She kept her eyes closed, relaxing on her side against the pillows set up all around her. Seconds later, she couldn't contain it any longer and let out a delighted giggle.

"Love, come on!" Alex groaned, stopping his hands on her shoulders. He sat up and frowned down at her, his petulant glare only making her laugh even more when she finally opened her eyes and peeked up at him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Honestly!" she grinned, reaching back and patting his arm in apology. "It feels really good, seriously."

He shook his head and resumed his massage, kneading her back with the knuckles of one hand while he caressed her neck with the fingers of his other.

"That's wonderful, babes," she sighed, closing her eyes again and taking a deep breath.

She hadn't felt this relaxed in weeks. The entire day had been lovely. It started with Alex taking her out for lunch, then over to the Beverly Wilshire hotel for some pampering. They lounged together in the pool, which was immensely soothing for her aching legs. Swimming was completely out of the question with how unbalanced and heavy she felt, but just sitting in the water with Alex calmed her. After that, it was on to the spa for a manicure and pedicure, before heading back home. She took a nap while he did work, and when he woke her up for dinner, she was feeling much better.

Normally, she liked to make an extra effort on Valentine's Day. Alex was always planning something special for them, and she wanted to reciprocate. This year, however, she simply didn't have the energy to go out. The twins were more active, and her daughter had even managed to kick her in the ribs, which had really annoyed her. Besides that, she was extra careful about her diet now, always worried that she wasn't getting enough water, or protein or anything else she could think of that her babies might need. She scrutinized menus before deciding on what restaurant to go to, and dishes that she used to love now appeared suspicious to her.

As usual, her husband picked up on all of this without her even having to tell him. A low-key day ending with dinner at home, a bubble bath and massage was absolutely perfect. She was relaxed enough to wiggle and laugh when he touched her in a particularly sensitive spot, which of course frustrated Alex. He was rather defensive about his massage skills.

"What do you think of Iris?" she asked, smiling as he rubbed lotion into her skin.

"I'm not a huge fan of floral names," he replied. "Lily, Iris, Marigold – I don't know. None of them seems that great to me."

"I'll tell Lady Rose you said that," she joked.

"Yeah," he huffed. "Not big on floral names, virtue names – Hope, Faith, Grace, whatever – they seem a little too pretentious."

"What about Amelia, or Emily? Those are the most popular girl names in the UK at the moment," she suggested.

"I'd rather she have something a bit more unique," he answered. "What do you think?"

"I think if she keeps moving around and kicking me in the ribs I'll have plenty of things to call her," she remarked. "All right, what about the boy, then?"

"Oh, love, I have got _the_ name for our son," he grinned, moving down to massage her bare thigh.

"You do, do you?" she teased, amused at how smug he seemed.

"Oh yeah," he nodded.

"All right, let's hear it," she prompted him.

"Dante," he declared proudly.

She paused for a moment, then frowned. "No."

He blinked and stared at her in shock. "What? Why not? Dante is an amazing name!"

"How about we're not Italian, for one," she stated. "And you really think that's a good name? Dante Lewis?"

"That sounds like an awesome name," he protested. "It's completely his own. I bet you he won't meet another Dante growing up."

"Yeah, or he'll spend his life trying to explain why his father gave him an Italian name when he isn't Italian," she nodded. "What else have you got?"

He shrugged and moved down to her calf. "I really liked Dante."

She laughed and snuggled against the pillow. "Well, you've got another four months or so to come up with something else."

She yelped and laughed when he spanked her.

"All right, Mrs Lewis. You are done," he declared, leaning down and kissing her cheek before he got up off the bed and put the towels and lotion bottles away.

"Excuse me," she called sharply. "You're hardly finished, are you?"

He looked at her in confusion as he came back to bed. "Yeah, why? Do you still have any knots left?"

"No, I'm fine, however, aren't you forgetting something?" she asked.

"What?" he questioned, standing at the side of the bed.

She gave him a sultry smile. "My happy ending."

He grinned and quirked his eyebrows playfully. "I'm sorry, Mrs Lewis. I don't know how I could have possibly forgotten that."

"Get those shorts off. Now," she ordered.

He hurried to obey.

 **Sushi Roku Restaurant, Santa Monica, California, February 14, 2019**

Mary hummed pleasantly to herself as she popped an amaebi roll into her mouth. She savoured the sweet taste of the raw shrimp and took a sip of sake. Dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, she looked up and caught her husband watching her in amusement.

"Yes? May I help you?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.

"No, everything's fine," he nodded.

She rolled her eyes. "What is it?"

He smiled. "I think you know."

She smirked and ran her hand through the shoulder length blonde wig that she was wearing. "I just might keep this look for a while. It's rather fetching on me, don't you think?"

He laughed and shook his head. "My darling, you look gorgeous in everything, and nothing at all…"

She frowned pointedly at his playful joke.

"I don't think that you were meant to be a blonde, though," he chuckled.

"It isn't so far beyond the realm of possibility. Look at Edith. She's been blonde since she was a baby," she noted.

"You used that to tell people she was adopted," he accused.

She laughed and shrugged mischievously.

"Anyway, she colours her hair, not to mention hers is a much darker shade than your…" he paused, searching for words.

"Than my what?" she demanded.

"Your platinum tresses," he finished.

She laughed and took another sip of sake, emptying her cup and reaching for the bottle.

"I like it," she stated. "I wouldn't say that blondes necessarily have more fun, but it has been interesting to be one of them for a bit. Besides, no one's interrupted us all evening."

"Probably because they think I'm stepping out on you with another woman," he teased, quirking his eyebrows.

She laughed. "Cheating on your cold British wife with a perky American girl from the Valley? So typical."

"Is that who you are? I think your accent needs some work, in that case," he remarked.

She huffed and took another sip of sake.

When he came home earlier from his meetings he found Mary already changed and finishing up her look for their Valentine's Day night out. The blonde wig had stunned him, understandably, drawing far too much of his attention away from her red sleeveless dress that barely went down to mid-thigh. Preferring to indulge her adventurous mood, he went along with it, though he kept staring at her during the drive down to Santa Monica.

The Japanese restaurant was usually frequented by celebrities, so the staff weren't particularly impressed when they arrived. He liked it that way, seeing that he didn't think there was anything particularly special about him, or them, at least not to the point where people should fawn all over them. Living in Los Angeles for nearly two months now, there were a few run-ins with fans, even more with paparazzi, but being that it was an industry town, most of the time they were left alone.

Their plates were cleared and they both looked up and smiled as the entrees arrived – Chilean sea bass for her, and Wagyu beef for him. The first delicious bites were savoured in silence before Mary took another sip of sake and smiled across the table at her husband.

"Do you remember our first Valentine's?" she asked.

"Obviously," he replied. "I paid far too much money for three dozen roses, and they were all dead within days."

She laughed and shook her head. "No, I'm not talking about our first Valentine's as a couple."

He frowned. "What are you talking about, then?"

"I seem to recall receiving a present from a secret admirer of mine back when I was twelve," she recalled, arching her eyebrow at him. "A rather lovely pair of wool gloves."

He smirked. "How do you know they were from me? I recall that you always seemed to have many admirers."

"I did, yes," she agreed. "None of them were thoughtful enough to give me anything of any practical use, however. Not to mention that none of them had the advantage of spending time at Downton to hear me complain to Mum about how I needed new gloves."

He chuckled. "If you valued that gift so much, why was it those gloves ended up being passed on to Sybil?"

"I didn't like the colour. Red never really went with anything I wore," she shrugged. "I always appreciated the sentiment though, even if I never bothered to actually tell you."

He smiled and took a sip of his Coke. "You preferred to leave me hanging on the line, rather than give me false hope that you could possibly feel something for me, was that it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Darling, I was thirteen. Being pursued was all that mattered. Allowing myself to reciprocate, well, that would have been a fatal mistake according to Granny."

He laughed and nodded.

"I don't mind telling you now that I'm glad for your persistence," she continued, her eyes bright. "I'm grateful for it, even."

He grinned and cut into his beef. "I was hardly ever one to leave well enough alone."

"Quite right," she agreed.

They continued to chat easily through the rest of their meal. Dessert was a tasting selection of Japanese jellies and ice cream, with a playful twist in the flavour and textures. When the last plate was cleared, they rose from their table and went to pay their compliments to the chef before Matthew escorted Mary outside. He took out his phone to call for a car to take them back to their home in the Hollywood Hills, but she stopped him.

"Not yet," she smiled. "This way."

He looked at her curiously as she took his hand and led him across to the other side of Ocean Drive, her heels clicking on the pavement as they walked among the towering palm trees. He could see the dark shadow of the Pacific on their right as they wandered along, his curiosity piqued as she led the way.

"Have you reserved a room for us in a beachfront hotel?" he asked.

She laughed. "No, I haven't, although that is a rather intriguing idea."

They continued on, the area not overly busy as it was off-peak season, not to mention approaching midnight. The tourists and locals were all indoors. The bright lights of the hotels and the amusement park in the distance blinked away, casting a faint glow down the long stretch of beach, fading at the edge of the water.

When they reached Santa Monica Pier, he smiled and followed her down a winding path towards the beach. The pristine sand was deserted, stretching far into the distance. Mary deftly removed her heels, and he kicked off his shoes. They smiled at each other as they left the path and walked along the beach, just out of reach of the rolling surf.

"Here. It's cold," he said, removing his suit jacket and placing it about her shoulders.

She smiled and leant into him, tugging the expensive blazer around her.

"This is nice," he nodded, moving along at a leisurely pace. There was a bit of a chill coming off the water so late at night, but the air was more crisp than cold. The sand was soft beneath their feet, and as they walked further away from the lights of the pier, the peace and quiet were comforting. It was just the two of them, and the bustle of Los Angeles was behind them, well out of sight.

"Stop here," she ordered, turning around to face him. "Sit down."

He frowned and looked around. "Sit down where? We don't have a towel, and there'

no chairs."

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, darling, you're supposed to be the less pretentious of us two. Over there."

He looked away from the water and found a lifeguard station behind them. He brought her up to it and stepped up on to the ramp, keeping his feet in the cool sand and sitting down. The lights of the amusement park on the pier reached over to them, ensuring they weren't in total darkness. The sea stretched out before them, a lovely background as he looked up at his wife standing before him.

"All right. Now what?" he smiled.

"Now, you remain seated," she smirked, coming to him and straddling his legs. She tossed her heels aside with his shoes and eased herself down, placing her hands lightly on his shoulders and sitting comfortably in his lap.

"Mary, I don't think that this is necessarily a good idea. We are still in public, even if there isn't anyone around," he warned, glancing to his left and right nervously.

She scoffed. "For just this one time, could you please not turn your thoughts immediately to sex?"

"Says the woman who is sitting on top of me with her dress bunched up," he retorted.

She gave him a threatening glare and shifted her hips, deliberately grinding against him.

"Mary!" he growled. "Stop it!"

She smirked and sighed contentedly. "Just listen, please. There's something I want to tell you."

"All right," he nodded expectantly.

She leant forward and kissed him lightly. His hands rested on her hips, steadying her as she pressed against him. Licking his lips playfully, she drew back and smiled at his smug expression.

"Keep talking," he drawled cheekily.

She smiled and shook her head. "Darling, I want to talk about your project – _Damocles_."

He blinked in surprise. "What of it?"

"Well, I still very much want to be in it," she declared.

He sighed. "Darling, we've been over this."

"Yes, we have. Well, at least, you've made your position quite clear. However, I am determined to change your mind, so please hear me out," she nodded.

"And you think it's absolutely necessary that we discuss it now? Here?" he asked.

"I do," she confirmed. "It's very important to me."

"All right, fine," he replied, the arousal he felt just seconds ago slowly waning.

"First, I want to tell you that I think I'm going to do Sam's movie – the World War II spy film," she informed him.

"Oh. Well, that's a wise choice," he nodded slowly. "You met with the Fox people just yesterday. I thought doing that movie with Henry was going to be your choice."

"If I'm honest, I thought the same thing," she admitted. "However, it became apparent to me during my meeting with the director and producer that I wouldn't be receiving equal billing with Henry – in terms of salary, screen time, prestige or importance."

He frowned. "Well, yes, or course you wouldn't. I thought that was obvious, rather. Sad, but obvious."

"I was well aware that Henry was always going to be the star," she clarified. "However, I originally thought that the role of the female lead would have enough substance to it so that I would benefit. After my meeting, it became obvious that is not the case."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Well, essentially it comes down to that they only want me to be the pretty thing that Henry's character gets to rescue and have sex with," she explained. "They didn't admit to that in so many words. They tried to describe some of the more demeaning scenes as being part of the character's story arc, but realistically, all they serve to do is reduce Nancy to being a simpering, submissive shadow of herself. The first Act of the film is quite good. She comes across as strong, sharp, smart and independent. All of it unravels after that, and she becomes a piece of ass, a part of the scenery while Henry goes about saving the world. It's all about her being stripped naked by the terrorists and abused, then cowering and licking Henry's boots when he saves her."

"That does sound horrid," he noted.

She nodded. "So, I told Aunt Rosamund that I'm not interested. She'll let them down gently and explain that I was offered a role in Sam's project, and that I couldn't pass up the chance to work in England again."

"A bit of a weak reason, since Henry's is the bigger movie, but it's still something more than just saying that you didn't like the script," he said. "While I'm elated that you aren't working with Henry, what does that have to do with me and _Damocles_?"

"Well, Sam says we should be wrapped by May at the latest. In the next two months, you can develop _Damocles_ to the point that it's ready to begin shooting in the summer. I'll be available then, and I am hereby pledging myself to your movie, if you'll have me," she nodded.

He watched her carefully. "Darling, I don't…"

"Before you say anything, you did promise to hear me out, and I'm not finished yet," she interjected.

"All right," he acknowledged.

"You said that I was unreliable, that you couldn't count on me, and though I vehemently disagree, I do understand why you feel that way. I know it's no consolation, but I thought you did a wonderful job with _10 Days_ , and a part of me does wish I has chosen to be in it," she began.

He nodded cautiously.

"It's not easy for me to talk about this sort of thing, even with you," she continued, looking down at his lap for a moment. "But the fact is that the reason, the real reason, why I seem so hesitant to work with you has nothing to do with your prospects of success, or that I prefer other actors and directors over you."

He frowned slightly. "It's not? What is it, then?"

She smiled ruefully before holding his gaze. "It's actually the exact opposite. I'm afraid. I'm afraid that you'll find me lacking."

His eyes bulged wide. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Aside from the fact that I'm your wife now, you've always thought of me as being this incredible actress, this person who is capable of doing anything, portraying anyone on screen."

He nodded. "Yes, of course, I do. Darling, you're brilliant."

She shook her head to stop him. "Thank you, and you're ever so sweet, but if I've been taught anything over the past two years, it's that I'm not nearly as talented as you seem to think I am."

"No, darling, that has nothing to do with your ability," he protested. "You know that it was all the gossip and scandal, and stupid studio executives who don't know fuck all about you."

She smiled at his passionate defence. "Be that as it may, working in France has steadied my confidence, but it hasn't built it back up entirely. I would be disappointed in myself if I let Paul down, or Sam, or anyone else. If something of yours didn't succeed because of me, however, well, that would be an absolute disaster."

"Mary," he sighed. "You could never let me down, my darling. The odds are that _Damocles_ will be a failure because of me, not you."

She smiled and kissed him lightly. "Darling, as much as I appreciate your humility, I think it's time for you to admit that you have not put a foot wrong ever since we did _Shattered_ together. Your run of success is practically unprecedented."

He scoffed. "That's not true."

She arched her eyebrow. "In any event, though I didn't want to admit it before, the idea of working with you, particularly with you directing, terrified me. It's far easier for you to be professional and concentrate on the work with another actress, like Rooney, or Natalie, or Gwen. Putting me in your movie just complicates things, and it raises the stakes for me also."

"Even if that was true, which it's not, why do you want to be in _Damocles_ , then? You would seem to have numerous reasons to avoid it," he asked.

She smiled. "Because I love you, and you've always been on my side, always believed in me, even when others did not. As ridiculous and irrational as it sounds, I know it's more important to you that we work together than whether the film is a success or not."

He smiled and nodded.

"So, I suppose that as much as I care about what other people think, and as much as I am scared about the problems that could come up, I must be brave, and have the same faith, the same trust in us as you do," she stated. "I'll clear the rest of my year for you if that's what it will take. I don't want you to think of me as unreliable, or preferring others to you. I'm not saying that we'll work together on every project going forward, or that I'll just blindly agree to whatever you come up with, but once I'm done with Sam's film, I'm not going to search around for my next role. I want to be in _Damocles_ , and I guarantee you that I will be available when it's ready."

He chuckled and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. They almost toppled over and she laughed against his mouth as their tongues played together. When she drew back, he was grinning up at her in joyful amusement.

"Does that mean I've convinced you, then?" she teased.

"Not entirely," he retorted.

"I expected as much. You directors can be so power-hungry," she huffed dramatically. "Well, you've got me on your proverbial casting couch now, Mr Crawley. What's it going to take for me to get this part?"

He smiled devilishly. "Why don't you come back to my place and we can discuss it further?"

She bit her finger, giving him an innocent look and taking on her best Valley girl voice. "Oh, okay, Mr Crawley. I really appreciate you taking the time to meet with me. I really want to do a good job."

He chuckled and helped her up to her feet. Picking up their shoes, he took her hand and led her back the way they came. "As good as your California accent is, I think I'd rather take my wife home."

She laughed and leant into him, resuming her normal tone. "Very well. We can save the role play for later. When we get home, you can take my wig off, as well as other things."

 **91** **st** **Academy Awards, Dolby Theatre, Hollywood, California, February 24, 2019**

"Thank you. Thank you very much. Thank you. Much appreciated. Thank you."

There seemed to be a procession of people shuffling by to congratulate Denzel Washington on his second Academy Award for Best Lead Actor, his third overall. The Hollywood veteran slapped hands, hugged and smiled his way through the line of well-wishers, hanging around the stage with his wife and some of their friends. As was tradition, the Oscar winners all congregated on stage after the show was over, enjoying the glow of victory as the auditorium emptied.

Matthew had left Mary speaking with Anna and some of her friends while he went over to shake Denzel's hand. Though it was disappointing to lose, he never really believed he had a legitimate shot. Taking home the SAG award last month had already exceeded his expectations.

"Matthew! My man!" Denzel laughed, reaching out and taking his hand when he reached him.

Matthew blinked in surprise as one of his idols pulled him into a firm hug and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Congratulations," he managed, nodding to Denzel and not quite knowing whether he should release the man's hand yet.

"Thank you, thank you. You, too," Denzel nodded, finally letting Matthew step back. "I thought it was going to be a close one, honestly, and I bet you that it was. You did a great job."

Matthew smiled. "Thanks. I thought you were far and away the most deserving this year."

"Well, that doesn't always mean it turns out the same way," Denzel chuckled. "Listen, I wanted to tell you that I saw your film. I thought it was great."

Matthew blinked. "Thanks."

"Seriously," Denzel nodded. "You were good in it, but I really liked some of the choices you made as a director. There were some angles that you used and the way you shot some of the more intimate conversations that really stuck with me. I was impressed."

Matthew nodded slowly. He thought that Denzel was just being kind, but from the way he talked, it actually made it sound as if he really had seen _10 Days_ and wasn't just paying him empty compliments.

"What have you got coming up?" Denzel asked.

"Uh, well, I'm looking at scripts, you know how it is. I've got a movie of my own that I'm working on. It's called _Damocles_ ," Matthew explained.

Denzel nodded. "The Sword of Damocles? The story about the servant who trades places with the King…hmm…what was his name? Dionysiuis!"

"Yes," Matthew said in shock. "That's right."

"You're working on that?" Denzel questioned. "Now that could have a lot of potential, if done right. Would you be in it, too?"

"That's the plan, yes," Matthew confirmed. "I want to develop it as something for me and Mary, so I'd have to create a part for her. I was actually thinking about having her play Damocles, give it a modern twist and have her trade places with the President of a corporation or something."

"Hmm, that could work, yeah," Denzel noted. "Well, look, if you need someone to play Dionysius, let me know."

Matthew blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

Denzel smiled. "Once you have your script done, let me know if you think I would fit. We can see if we can work together."

"Sure! That would be great!" Matthew stumbled. "I doubt I can afford you, but I'd be happy to talk about it."

Denzel laughed. "One step at a time, Matthew. Don't talk about money at the beginning. You're the director. It's your project. I tell you that I'm interested, you acknowledge it and we go from there."

"Right, right," Matthew nodded. "I just can't believe it."

Denzel smiled and held up his Oscar trophy. "Listen, don't let all of this fool you. You've got one, too. In this business, never let anybody, and I mean anybody, make you feel like you aren't on the same level as them. It doesn't mean you have to be cocky, but the industry is full of bullies, right? They'll walk all over you if you let them. You have a project, you believe in your project, and you defend your project. It's yours, not mine, okay?"

"Got it, yes," Matthew smiled. "Thanks so much."

Denzel laughed and hugged Matthew again. "No problem. No problem. You make sure and bring your wife over to say hello at the party later. Pauletta loves her."

Matthew nodded and shook hands with Denzel again before moving away. Another person quickly took his place and shared a hearty laugh with the winning actor, but Matthew wasn't paying attention. He turned and headed back to Mary, his mind racing at the revelations from such a brief encounter.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, March 10, 2019**

Alex placed the laser level on the newly installed shelf. He checked to make sure everything was properly aligned before stepping back and admiring his handiwork.

"You know, there is something rather sexy about a man with talented hands," Anna called from the doorway to the nursery.

He turned and smiled at her. "What do you think, love?"

She came into the nursery and appraised the shelves he had mounted on the wall next to the changing table. Everything was within easy reach, and at the perfect height so she wouldn't have to bend over, or get up on her tiptoes just to grab wipes or diapers. Alex was adamant, or in her opinion, paranoid, that she not stretch too much and risk hurting her back, so he didn't want to use the lower drawers of the changing table. She found his behaviour rather annoying, but she couldn't help but be flattered by his care and consideration. Everything he did, no matter how overbearing, was meant to make life easier for her and the twins, and she had to love him for that.

Glancing around, she marvelled at the transformation of the space. The oversized crib was along one wall, with a removable divider so that the babies could see each other, but not necessarily get in each other's way. A large and wonderfully comfortable rocking chair was by the bay window, with a reclining function so she could put her feet up, and a view of the backyard whenever she had to nurse. Alex had assembled everything, including the mobiles, changing table, dresser, closet organizer, and the stereo system and cameras. The walls still need to be decorated, and she changed her mind on the paint colour all the time, but the essentials were in place, and the room felt warm and comfortable.

"It's all coming together," she nodded. "All we need are the names and we can finish decorating."

"Well, you better get on that," he joked, putting his drill and tools away.

"You know my choices already," she retorted. "You're the one who's dragging your feet."

"I'm not dragging my feet, whatever that even means," he complained, turning towards her.

"You know exactly what it means," she frowned.

"I already told you my choices," he shrugged. "Every time I come up with something perfectly acceptable, you veto it.

"We are not naming them Hansel and Gretel Lewis," she scoffed, glaring at him pointedly.

He laughed and threw his hands up. "Anyway, I'm going to take a shower. Coming?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "What makes you think I'd be interested in showering with you?"

"Didn't you just say you found it sexy how I put all of this together?" he asked, coming over and putting his arms around her.

"Did I say that? I can't seem to recall," she taunted him, looking up at him playfully.

He reached down and put his hand on her belly, which had grown considerably in the past month. Anna was rather petite, to begin with, but the fact that she was carrying two children made her feel even larger than she looked. He didn't mind at all, telling her constantly how gorgeous she was, and when she didn't believe him, which was often, he proved it to her with relentless determination.

"I think that Hansel wants you to take a shower with me," he stated, smiling at her playfully.

"That's Gretel. She's the one on the right," she corrected him.

"Ah, so you like the names, then!" he declared triumphantly.

She slapped his chest and rolled her eyes. "How about this? I'll come shower with you right now if you drop all of this Hansel and Gretel nonsense, or you can keep pushing for it and you can't touch me for the rest of the pregnancy?"

He scoffed. "As if you could hold out that long."

"Try me," she challenged. "I have my ways."

He frowned at her for a moment, then took her hand. "Fine. No Hansel and Gretel."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. Leaning into him, she quirked her eyebrows and whispered to him sultrily. "Good choice, babes, because you were right. Seeing you put all this together has made me very hot for you. You are going to get so lucky in that shower."

His face lit up and he led her out of the nursery towards their bedroom. "Hansel and Gretel are still okay for nicknames, though, right?"

"What do you think?" she asked, following him into their bedroom and towards the ensuite bathroom.

"Yeah, let's focus on the whole me getting lucky part, instead," he chuckled.

"Smart boy," she nodded, grinning as he turned her around and began undoing the buttons of her top.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, March 17, 2019**

"Darling, this came for you via courier," Matthew announced, bringing a large box into the sitting room and placing it on the coffee table before her.

"Ah! It's the new wallet I ordered!" Mary exclaimed, smiling at the Chanel label on the box.

"Rather ironic that you spend more money on a wallet than most people have in theirs, isn't it?" he noted, sitting down and going back to working on his script on his laptop.

"What's that? You're sleeping on the couch tonight?" she retorted, pulling the tape off the box.

He chuckled and shook his head wanly.

"Oh, for God's sake," she grumbled, pulling out a grey leather wallet with the famous silver linked C logo on the front. "She got it all wrong."

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Ivy ordered the wrong style and colour," she complained. "I wanted the larger one, and in black. That woman is an absolute disaster."

"You would think she would know that ordering designer accessories was a vital part of being a personal assistant," he joked.

"Isn't it?" she demanded. "Anna would never make such a mistake."

"Ivy isn't Anna, obviously, but she has experience in the business, knows the city well and has worked with the studio before," he noted. "She isn't the brightest, no, but as far as being able to help you on set, she can manage that, can't she?"

"I suppose," she rolled her eyes. "She has only been at it for a couple of weeks. I may need to lower my expectations, again."

"That's the spirit," he laughed.

"She's is eager, I'll give her that," she added. "She's always trying to endear herself to me. She probably thinks that once Anna has her twins, she'll be back to work, which will put Miss Stuart out of a job."

"That is what's happening, isn't it?" he asked.

"Not right away, no," she shrugged. "Eventually. I know that Alex won't be pleased with Anna going back to work."

"He most certainly will not be, no," he agreed.

"It won't come as a surprise, though," she stated.

"Maybe I'll see if we can film _Damocles_ in Toronto. That way you can see Anna more often, and she can give Ivy some tips," he suggested.

"That would be fun, although I don't know if Anna will be able to offer much by then. She'll be well into her third trimester. Anyway, we need a script first," she reminded him.

"It's getting there," he replied defensively. "I'm writing the scene where Astrid seduces Damocles."

She rolled her eyes. "Mmm hmm. How does she do that, exactly?"

"Oh, you know, she pretends to be far more virtuous than she really is, makes it seem as if he's teaching her the ways of love, when in fact she's really manipulating him for her own purposes," he smirked.

"Right," she frowned. "You do know that I turned down Henry's film because it was far too exploitive and insulting a role, don't you? Careful how you choose to write my part."

He laughed. "I'm kidding. I'm writing a scene where Astrid manipulates Dionysius into agreeing to her scheme."

She smiled. "Sharing a scene with Denzel Washington. Goodness…"

"He hasn't committed yet. All he ever said was he was interested," he reminded her.

"Funny how some actors want to see a script before they commit to a role, isn't it?" she replied.

He scoffed and kept on typing.

 **La Table du Lancaster, 8e arrondissement, Paris, France, March 29, 2019**

"We've officially made back your investment," Jean-Paul announced, sipping his wine. " _Orlena_ is an international success."

"And yet, _Marie_ has chosen not to work with Paul on his next film," Xavier noted.

"She was offered a role in a British film," Jean-Paul confirmed. "We still have the premiere of _Duplicity_ to organize. She isn't done with us yet."

'I hope not. The last party was a bit boring without her," Xavier replied.

Jean-Paul chuckled and they both took a few more bites of their meal.

"The British film has potential, but commercially, it won't do much," Jean-Paul continued. "It won't give her the push that she wants."

"And the meetings that she took in Hollywood? Did anything come from those?" Xavier asked.

"No," Jean-Paul shook his head. "She's back in consideration for roles, but nothing to the level that she thinks she deserves. Once she sees how well _Duplicity_ is received, it will be obvious to her which country is better for her career."

"Good," Xavier nodded. "The sooner she is back in France, the better."

"She'll be back, but I don't know how long she will stay," Jean-Paul advised. "Her husband made a fortune off his last film. He had quite a favourable deal with Sony on it, so most of the back-end went into his pocket. I have contacts who think that he could finance his next project personally."

"If it's a success, _Marie_ will not feel she needs us," Xavier remarked.

"The money isn't an issue, however, she will certainly not be as trapped as she was when she first arrived here," Jean-Paul concluded.

Xavier nodded. "Make sure that the release of _Duplicity_ goes well, then. It will be our best chance of convincing her. With what I have planned, it would be a pity to have to start all over again with someone else."

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, April 2, 2019**

"Right, yeah. Well, I'm glad things are going well for you," Green smiled, nodding as he spoke into his phone headset. "Say, have you talked to Anna lately?...Oh, she's back in Toronto? Yeah, I heard something about that. I just missed her in L.A. during awards season. She's on leave, right? Mary's here filming and she has a new P.A….Right, right, yeah…I think that's right. She's something like six or seven months along…Okay, I should let you go…I'll give you a shout next time I'm in Toronto…Yeah…Okay…Bye."

Green took off his headset and tossed it on to his desk. Sitting down in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he contemplated this new information. When he heard Mary was back in London working on a movie, he had begun to put his plans in motion, only to find out that Anna wasn't here with her. Now he had confirmation that she was back in Toronto, and would probably remain there until her due date.

He reached over to his computer monitors and brought up one of the photos from the _Paladin_ wrap party. It seemed so long ago now. He smiled as he looked at Anna's smiling face, her eyes slightly closed from the alcohol and marijuana in her system. She was leaning into him, not bothered at all that he had his arm around her shoulders, completely oblivious to everything except how good she felt in that moment.

He bared his teeth and grinned devilishly, his hand moving down to unzip his jeans. Leaning back in his chair, he focused on her smiling face, visions of the reunion he had planned for them dancing in his head.


	18. Chapter 18

**Previously:**

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, April 2, 2019**

"Right, yeah. Well, I'm glad things are going well for you," Green smiled, nodding as he spoke into his phone headset. "Say, have you talked to Anna lately?...Oh, she's back in Toronto? Yeah, I heard something about that. I just missed her in L.A. during awards season. She's on leave, right? Mary's here filming and she has a new P.A….Right, right, yeah…I think that's right. She's something like six or seven months along…Okay, I should let you go…I'll give you a shout next time I'm in Toronto…Yeah…Okay…Bye."

Green took off his headset and tossed it on to his desk. Sitting down in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he contemplated this new information. When he heard Mary was back in London working on a movie, he had begun to put his plans in motion, only to find out that Anna wasn't here with her. Now he had confirmation that she was back in Toronto, and would probably remain there until her due date.

He reached over to his computer monitors and brought up one of the photos from the _Paladin_ wrap party. It seemed so long ago now. He smiled as he looked at Anna's smiling face, her eyes slightly closed from the alcohol and marijuana in her system. She was leaning into him, not bothered at all that he had his arm around her shoulders, completely oblivious to everything except how good she felt in that moment.

He bared his teeth and grinned devilishly, his hand moving down to unzip his jeans. Leaning back in his chair, he focused on her smiling face, visions of the reunion he had planned for them dancing in his head.

 **Chapter 18:**

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, April 29, 2019**

" _How can two brainless dullards like us ever hope to keep the interest of King Dionysius?_ No. Brainless…mindless…stupid…boring…two boring dullards…two boring simpletons…two boring idiots…two boring plebes…plebes…yes, plebes. _Two boring plebes_ …"

Matthew leaned back in his chair, one hand on his chin, the other poised over his laptop keyboard. His eyes, narrowed in concentration, scrolled down the screen, reading over his script. This was his least favourite part of the process of bringing a story from an initial idea to the big screen – the constant revisions. After settling on an outline, he would write whatever came to mind, working through scenes and dialogue with a view to getting his thoughts out, leaving the organizing and structure for later. The editing and polishing came after he had some form of cogent story, and it usually involved days of tedious and frustrating review, going back and reordering scenes, changing lines to suit his characters better, and figuring out how it would all look on film. He would often read the dialogue out loud, repeating it over and over to see if it sounded right. There was much deleting, groaning, head shakes and eye rolls. Some days he used a precise scalpel, others a sledgehammer, all to shape his mess of writing into an actual script.

" _Dear wife, wasn't it clear from the day I arranged our engagement with your father that it was never your brains that interested me?_ Brains…mind…never your mind that interested me…that held my interest…never your mind that held my interest…never your mind that interested me…"

Mounted on the wall of the study were photographs of Denzel, Mary, and a few of the other actors lined up for different roles in his movie. He liked to have their images close by, so he could look up and imagine them acting out his scenes, hear their voices reciting his lines, and see in his mind if what he was creating fit the people who would be bringing his characters to life. Though he didn't tell Mary, this was the same way he had written the script for _10 Days_. Once she turned him down and Rooney helped him out by taking on the lead role, he had to go back and rewrite the script, changing some of the dialogue to suit Rooney's voice, cadence, and mannerisms, using her past performances in other films as a guide.

Though they were all talented actors and able to adapt to anything, even using different accents, he liked to tailor the script as much as possible. In his experience, actors did their best work when they were comfortable with the material, and when their assigned dialogue came to them easily. It wasn't that he wanted them to be themselves, but it was important that they put their own stamp on the roles, injected their own persona to a degree.

" _Let's go in. Don't worry about him. He won't be the only man staring at you tonight._ Staring…the only man ogling…leering…spying…lusting… _he won't be the only man watching you tonight._ "

He continued on, adding in some notes about the scene, reminders to himself about what camera angles he wanted to use and the overall effect he wanted to convey. One decision he made early on was to change his original vision for the love scenes. Though he and Mary had already played lovers in _Shattered_ , he didn't want to have graphic scenes in this movie. It was more important to show the tension between their characters, rather than the sex itself. Beyond that though, he was beginning to notice that every project Mary did involved her taking her clothes off at some point. From her steamy scenes with Henry in _Paladin_ , through to _Shattered_ and the three French movies she did for Paul, she stripped down to her lingerie, or less, in each one. He knew she was comfortable with it, and the most the audience ever saw was her bare back or the curve of her breast, but it still gave him pause. He didn't want to put her in that position if the story didn't call for it.

He was just nominated for an Oscar for _The Disciple_ , a movie where the closest he came to a love scene was giving Rooney a brotherly hug and kiss on the cheek. Moreover, Denzel, still considered one of the most attractive men in the business at 63 years old, seldom did love scenes in his films. Mary did have a male fan following, but he refused to believe that her appeal hinged on whether she showed any cleavage or writhed around in bed onscreen. By using shadows and blurred camera shots to film their love scenes for _Damocles_ , he hoped the film would be judged on the talent of the actors, rather than on how much of their bodies they showed off.

Perusing the screen once more, he reluctantly moved on to the next scene. He would go over the entire thing countless more times in the coming days, leading up to his self-imposed deadline to have the script finished by next week. With summer approaching, lining up the cast and crew and associated logistics to begin filming required weeks of lead time. He had enough money from the box office performance of _10 Days_ to give him far more freedom this time around, not having to wait for financing, but he was still eager to get the production started. His actors would only keep their schedules open for him for so long, he thought wryly.

 **Brancaster Castle, Northumberland, England, May 4, 2019**

"How has it been?" Edith asked, sipping her tea as she looked up at Mary's image on the television screen mounted to the wall of her office.

"Wet, muddy," Mary shrugged. "I almost twisted my ankle about a half dozen times yesterday. The cornfield looks nice, but once you have to run through it over and over again, it isn't so picturesque anymore, particularly when you're wearing Wellies that are supposed to be from the 1940s."

Edith laughed and nodded. "Is it not even a little bit fun, though?"

Mary smiled. "Shooting guns was fun, even though they were all rather old and not nearly as elegant as the ones I used on _Paladin_ or _Duplicity_. No, I've had a blast, really. Sam has been amazing to work with. It's a lot like when I worked with Thea. Having a woman for a director is just a different experience, especially with this film being all about women, and the cast and crew being mainly women as well. There hasn't been a day on the shoot where we weren't all in stitches at some point, be it in the makeup trailer or just in between takes. Just one look sometimes and we're all laughing our asses off."

"Well, I'm glad it's gone well," Edith replied.

"As am I," Mary agreed. "It's been nice living in London for an extended time, too. When are you coming back?"

"End of the month, at the latest," Edith answered. "The tourists ramp up come June, so I told Bertie we need to be out of here well before then."

Mary smiled. "And of course he agreed straight away, lest he put his wife and unborn heir in jeopardy."

Edith laughed and patted her pregnant belly. "The baby does give me far more sway with Bertie, yes."

"Well, the timing is excellent," Mary remarked. "I'll be able to see you for a bit before we leave for Toronto."

"I can't believe the two of you are working together again, and with Matthew directing you on top of that," Edith smirked.

"It isn't so difficult to imagine. I've always been willing to work with him, I just needed to be sure that he knew what he was doing," Mary scoffed. "Anyway, it won't be just the two of us. I'll have a fair number of scenes with Denzel as well, so that will be nice challenge. He's easily the biggest star I've ever worked with."

"That's quite exciting, isn't it? And he agreed to be in the movie all because of Matthew?" Edith asked in disbelief.

"He was impressed by _The Disciple_ , and Matthew's other work, apparently," Mary nodded. "When you've had the career that he's had, you can do whatever you want. He doesn't have to worry about box office numbers, or whether his next project will improve his profile or not. He can just pick the roles he finds interesting, and apparently he liked Matthew's version of King Dionysius quite a bit."

"Incredible," Edith shook her head.

"It could be quite the coup for Matthew, really. Denzel has a small group of directors he likes to work with, so to be part of that exclusive club would be fantastic for him, particularly on just his second time directing," Mary noted.

"It's quite exciting how he was able to write this script and bring it through to production so soon," Edith commented. "Projects usually sit in development for ages, don't they?"

"Usually, yes, but Matthew has the advantage of being quite popular right now," Mary pointed out. "Sony will basically greenlight whatever he comes up with since he's made them so much money already, and thanks to his profits from _10 Days_ , he doesn't have to wait for approval for funding and what not. It's a nice spot to be in, but that just means the pressure keeps increasing. Everyone expects whatever he touches to automatically bring in $100 million."

"Which stresses him right out, I expect," Edith sighed.

"He tries not to think about it, but Matthew being Matthew, he still does, obviously," Mary confirmed. "The added expectations may be good for him, rather. His latest script is quite brilliant. I honestly can't wait to get started."

"Lady Mary Crawley paying her poor husband a compliment? Goodness," Edith teased.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Considering all the people fawning all over him, both online and in person, he hardly needs any further ego boosting from me, thank you."

"Maybe not, but we both know he holds your opinion above all others, and even if you aren't going to gush about him, a kind word is better than trampling all over his confidence," Edith smirked.

"Trample all over his confidence? Whatever are you talking about? His confidence is doing perfectly well. I agreed to be in his film. I've planned the rest of my year around it. That already says plenty, doesn't it?" Mary demanded.

"I suppose. Just don't be so…you…all the time, that's all. It's okay to let him know that you think he's done well," Edith encouraged her.

Mary frowned. "You got that from those self-help books you've been reading, didn't you?"

"I just think you and Sybil don't appreciate your husbands enough," Edith replied. "Or, you don't let them know you appreciate them, rather. It doesn't take much effort to say something nice."

"What makes you think that Matthew and Tom say anything nice about us?" Mary questioned.

Edith frowned at her. "Honestly?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Thank you for the advice, as unsolicited as it was. You know, Mum was asking me about coming to London closer to your due date. I think I'll tell her that you would love to see her as soon as she can make it down."

Edith huffed. "You think yourself so superior, but I already spoke to Mum, and I've resigned myself to the fact that she'll be hovering about soon enough. Between her and Bertie's mum, I'm sure I'll be constantly reminded of all the terrible things I'm doing to harm the baby."

Mary smiled. "Well, you had to expect that. It can't hurt to have them around, really. Anna's on her own. Her mum and Alex's mother aren't flying over for a while yet."

"I can't imagine having twins, seriously," Edith shook her head. "She must feel absolutely massive."

"She does," Mary nodded. "I think she's more than ready to get them out, even though she's still got a ways to go. The nursery is finished and she has a nanny and a night nurse already hired, so there's that."

Edith smiled. "I'll have to call her soon. I've been running around trying to get everything ready for the move."

"Do that," Mary replied. "The more she talks to you and Sybil, the less I have to pretend to be interested."

Edith shook her head at her older sister covering her mouth and laughing.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, May 6, 2019**

"The line will fade after the delivery," Sybil advised, smiling at Anna over the video call. "Keep using the cocoa butter over the next few months and it should lighten. I used an exfoliating scrubber after Emily was born and it worked fine."

Anna nodded. "And the stretch marks?"

"Aloe vera," Sybil replied. "There's lots of home remedies. One of my girlfriends swore that potatoes dipped in lemon juice did the trick, but it felt a bit icky to me. Aloe vera and vitamin A capsules was easier. It was like putting on moisturizer, really."

"Right. Yeah, I'll try that," Anna replied, typing the ingredients into her phone. "I feel ashamed about being so vain. They're just marks. Alex doesn't even seem to care about them."

"But you do," Sybil remarked sympathetically. "Tom noticed them, but he didn't care either. He did take the piss out of me a few times, but I put a stop to that real quick. Look, it's not being vain to worry about your linea nigra and stretch marks. You're having twins. Your body has changed a lot in the last seven months. There's nothing wrong with making sure you look and feel your best. It would be a problem if you didn't eat enough because you were stressing over your weight. That can directly affect the babies. Figuring out how to take better care of your skin isn't a crime. You want to be in as calm and happy a mood as possible over this last trimester, so whether it's going to the spa, getting your nails done, or treating your skin, do whatever you want."

Anna smiled in relief. "I've been a regular at the spa the entire pregnancy. I can hardly see my feet now, but I still get pedicures, just to ease the aches a bit and have some pampering. Relaxing in the pool is heavenly, though I imagine I must look like a whale."

Sybil laughed and shook her head. "Oh shut your face. You look gorgeous, and I know your husband thinks so."

Anna blushed and smiled. "Honestly, I thought he'd be turned off by now, but he isn't. It's a good thing, because my urges certainly haven't lessened at all."

Sybil clapped her hands and cheered. "Good for you! You're stuck at home most of the time these days, so you may as well make the most of it."

Anna giggled and nodded. "He's had to change his office hours. I don't let him out of the house in the morning without…well, our mornings are quite fun."

Sybil nodded. "I always had a lie in. Emily kept waking me up during the night so I got my best sleep from 7 to 9 or so. Mary mentioned you've got all your staff sorted?"

"We hired a nanny and a night nurse, but they won't be starting for a while yet. The nanny is coming over from Hong Kong. I think we're ready. Well, we're as ready as we're going to get."

"What did you decide for the names?" Sybil asked.

"Peter and Felicia," Anna answered. "I kind of love them, actually. Felicia means 'happy times' in Latin, and it's so much better than a regular English name. Alex chose Peter. We're still working on the middle names, and they'll have Chinese names as well. Alex's parents are choosing those."

"It's so good that you're on top of it. Tom and I didn't settle on names until the last week. I was afraid I would go into labour without having a name picked out!" Sybil laughed in recollection.

"Do you think you'll be able to come up? Mary and Matthew are flying in at the beginning of June to start filming on _Damocles_. Our Canada Day party may end up being when everyone meets the twins for the first time," Anna said.

"We'll try, for sure. I need to figure out when we're going back to London. I want to get there well before Edith is due, but that means we may be staying there for a few weeks, so we have to work out our vacation time and all of that," Sybil advised.

"Sure. Well, let me know. We'd love to have all three of you here. It'll be good practice for Emily playing the big sister," Anna joked.

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Don't you start on me, too, now. I barely avoided having Irish twins with how giddy Tom is to have number two. With Emily now one and a half, he's been jumping me whenever he thinks I'm ovulating. To be fair, I haven't been discouraging him."

Anna laughed heartily at that.

"If I could get pregnant by August that would be perfect. It would put all of our kids within twelve months of each other, and Emily would be only two years older. Plus, I don't want to have a baby during the winter again. Getting around was such a bitch," Sybil bantered.

"Well, good luck with that. I talked to Edith a few days ago. She's quite eager to get to London," Anna smiled.

"Brancaster is literally a fortress, and not necessarily in a good way," Sybil agreed. "It's impressive to visit, but I can't imagine actually living there. Having tourists go through a part of Downton is annoying enough, and Brancaster is something like twice the size."

Anna laughed.

"Do you have time to show me the finished nursery?" Sybil asked.

"Yeah, sure!" Anna nodded, picking up her tablet and heading out to the hall. "I changed the paint scheme again, but this is the one, I think…"

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, May 10, 2019**

"Talk to me," Green said into his headset.

"He leaves the house between 9:45 and a quarter past ten. It takes him between eight and ten minutes to get to the office in the Financial District."

"8-10 minutes? That seems abnormally fast."

"It is. He likes to drive fast, and he's got the cars to do it."

"Well, then."

"He's in the office until five. He usually makes it home for dinner by six. The latest he's stayed at the office was seven, from what we saw."

"Doesn't he have client events, dinners, baseball games or whatever to go to?"

"He's stopped all of that. He's always home at night in time for dinner."

"Bastard. All right, so ten until five, conservatively. What about lunch?"

"She's gone to meet him a few times, but not so much anymore."

"So he won't be home during the day."

"Not unless she calls him."

"How often does she call him?"

"Not often. She leaves him alone. Maybe the odd text, but she doesn't bother him."

"How kind. Now what is her schedule?"

"Lately, she's been staying home. She doesn't go out much. Groceries are delivered on Tuesday and Thursday of each week. Anything else that she needs she just has it couriered to the house. She goes for a walk in the morning and again in the afternoon, but the past week she's just been staying at home."

"Hmm, interesting."

"They have a swimming pool."

"I seem to recall some mention of that. What about it?"

"Now that the weather is nicer, she sits out there during the day, usually around lunch."

"Ah. And what about staff?"

"They have gardeners who come by once a week, usually just keep to the outside and don't go in the house. Cleaning service is twice a week, and that's it."

"Security?"

"None. There's an alarm system. Response time to emergencies is around ten minutes since they're a bit further in from the main street."

"Ten minutes. That just might do. All right, send me the photos and report."

"Yes, sir."

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, May 14, 2019**

"Lady Mary," Meade said, bowing his head.

"Meade," Mary replied crisply, giving him a polite smile as she came into the foyer. Meade had been the butler at Painswick House for as long as she could remember, mainly serving her Aunt Rosamund. Like Carson was at Downton Abbey, his constant presence was steadying and familiar. Even though she hardly needed him to open the front door for her, and she never bothered to ring him for anything, really, it still felt comforting to see his face every time she came back home.

"Where is Mr. Crawley?" she asked, putting her sunglasses away in her purse and removing her heels.

"In the study, my Lady," he answered. "He hasn't emerged since breakfast."

She smirked. The implication from the butler was that Matthew had skipped lunch and afternoon tea, a cardinal sin to the older man. No task was important enough to cause one to miss such long-standing English rites.

"Thank you. I'll go and deal with him," she replied.

She walked briskly upstairs. The study was on the second floor, near the back of the house, removed enough from the bustle of downstairs and isolated sufficiently from the upstairs bedrooms. Matthew preferred to have complete control over his workspace, and remaining at Painswick House was the best option available. He wasn't one to go to Starbucks with his laptop and work away with a latté perched on the table. With his script now finished and sent out to all the actors, he was now into preparing for the production – organizing his lists and notes, checking in with the various assistants and crew, and going over the ever-changing schedule. _Damocles_ was slated to be a larger undertaking than _10 Days_ was, which meant more of everything – more cast and crew, more camera rigs, more trailers, more permits and city bureaucracy to deal with, and more media attention.

For weeks now, the entertainment shows and industry papers had all mentioned that filming was slated to begin this summer. The Canadian press was hailing their arrival as proof that Toronto was still one of the world's preeminent film locations. The gossip rags were eagerly anticipating their first movie together since _Shattered_ , and all the photo ops that would come. Even _Variety_ and _Deadline Hollywood_ were speculating on what the film would mean for their careers and Sony's bottom line. All of this noise and the first day of shooting was still weeks away.

She pulled her hair tie free and shook out her dark brown tresses as she reached the second floor. For the role of Astrid in _Damocles_ , Matthew wanted her hair long, which was a challenge, since Sam needed it not quite shoulder-length for _Ungentlemanly Warfare_. She normally would use hair extensions to suit the role, but she knew Matthew would need to see her hair in different lengths before he settled on what he wanted. He always had ideas, but he never made up his mind until he was able to see things for real. So, she kept her hair long and pinned it up into a 1940s style bun during filming. While she liked having long hair, it was far more troublesome to maintain, particularly in the summer.

Passing the full-length mirror in the hallway, she stopped to check her appearance. Filming was set to wrap next week. The way that Sam set up the schedule, Mary wasn't needed as much in these final days, allowing her to not have to worry about night shoots, long hours, and intense scenes. It only reaffirmed what a wise decision it was to choose this movie as her next project.

She also was coming home in the early evening with some semblance of energy left, rather than being worn out completely, as was usually the case when she worked in France.

She smiled and adjusted the collar of her navy halter-top. Normally she wore a sweater and leggings to work, since she would be changing into WW2-era attire anyway. With the warmer weather, she was feeling more playful, and the sleeveless halter-top and colourful floral-print skirt suited her mood. The pale skin of her long legs had the odd nick here and there, from crawling through dirt and running through corn fields during filming. The marks were fading now, and she didn't mind them so much. They were her battle scars, signs of her dedication to making this important movie work. Satisfied with her look, she continued on down the hall.

An unfamiliar melody grew louder the closer she approached the closed oak door of the study. Knocking lightly, she waited but received no response.

"Darling?" she called, opening the door and slipping inside.

Her husband was seated at the large desk, his eyes half-closed as he listened to the music playing from the wireless speaker he had linked to his laptop.

She stood still and admired him for a moment. Even though he was cooped up in here all day, and was working from home, he still maintained a professional approach. He was dressed in black trousers, a crisp white buttoned shirt, and navy blue tie. His hair was perfectly in place, as always. His glass of water was resting nearby on a coaster, the accompanying pitcher almost empty.

She closed the door behind her and listened intently. The song wasn't anything she had heard before. It was all instrumental, mainly piano, with a violin or harp, she wasn't sure, and every so often a harsh drumbeat. There was a flute or something in there as well, and a clarinet maybe? It was at different points slow, frenetic, haunting and soaring. She took a step towards him, still focusing on the song.

He blinked when he picked up her presence. Reaching over to his laptop, he lowered the volume and turned back towards her. "Hi."

"Hi," she smiled, coming over and kissing him lightly. "What's this that you're listening to?"

"Oh, it's one of the songs that Jack sent over," he replied, glancing at the laptop again. "He gave me a bunch of different tracks and I'm trying to narrow them down, pick out the parts that I like and come up with some semblance of a playlist that we can use for the background music."

"Ah," she nodded, listening as the song continued. "And here I thought you were just going to license a bunch of pop tunes."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I can't afford that, and besides, I don't think the latest teen anthem would fit the movie."

"Yes, since it's oh so serious," she teased, coming over and running her hand along the polished wood of the desk. "Mature audiences, only."

"Not too mature, now," he joked. "The 18-25-year-old demographic still moves the most numbers."

She laughed and nodded. "So which scene will this particular arrangement be accompanying?"

He looked up at her and smiled cheekily. "I was considering it for our love scene, actually."

She arched her eyebrow and smirked. "Is that so? Well, I could see that, although aren't you a bit concerned that you may not be able to keep up when the drums pick up the beat?"

He frowned. "And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?"

She grinned mischievously. "Nothing at all. I'm just pointing out that since you're now the director of the film, it's important that you not overexert yourself. It would be terribly embarrassing if you were to have a heart attack on set."

"A heart attack?" he repeated, looking at her incredulously. "Is that a veiled comment about my stamina?"

"If you like," she shrugged. "It's important to me as an actress that I know I can trust those I work with to at least be able to handle what is required by a scene."

He shook his head ruefully. "You know, as a director, it's important to me that I can trust my actors to do whatever the script requires. How can I be sure that you'll be able to get through the scene, Lady Mary?"

She smiled and stepped towards him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "That's what rehearsal is for, isn't it?"

He grinned devilishly and nodded his head. "Indeed, it is."

He reached down and placed his hand on her bare leg, the smooth silk of her skin beneath his fingers lighting his arousal.

Her eyelids fluttered as she felt his fingers trail a warm path above her knee and up her thigh, his hand moving beneath her skirt.

"You've got a nerve," she rasped huskily, her eyes darkening with lust. "If the King was here…"

He blinked in surprise at her change in tone, recognizing the line immediately. He looked up at her carefully, his lips curling when he saw the challenge in her eyes.

"He's not here," he replied, shifting his own voice into character. "Besides, he's not the King, not anymore. He's a simple commoner now like I used to be."

She hummed thickly as his other hand joined the first beneath her skirt. "You believe that being King entitles you to certain liberties, do you?" she asked, her aristocratic accent sharp and biting.

"Are you not one of my subjects? Have you not sworn loyalty to your ruler?" he asked, taking hold of the delicate strings of her panties.

"I also vowed to honour my husband," she rasped, her eyes finding his.

"You do honour him," he smirked. "What greater honour can there be for a man when his King deems his wife worthy of special attention?"

He paused, his hands still on her hips, waiting for her.

She grinned and nodded, a sharp breath leaving her lips as he drew her panties down her legs. As animalistic as they could be with each other, he would never force her to perform for him, either as his wife, or as an actress. The blurred line between the two in this moment thrilled her. She stepped out of her underwear and move between his legs, his hands now cupping her arse possessively.

"King or not, adultery remains a sin, my Lord," she whispered.

"I am not married, and we're alone. No one will know what we did here," he replied on cue, fondling her roughly.

"What are we doing here?" she gasped, reaching down and undoing the hidden snaps of her halter-top, peeling the layers away and throwing the garment down her arms and to the floor.

"I am contemplating the many important matters that face our realm, as I often do at night," he replied, pulling her on to his lap. He reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, flicking it aside and drawing her to him. "What are you doing?"

"Serving my Lord," she answered, unbuttoning his shirt.

"And for that, you shall be rewarded," he nodded, bringing her closer and kissing her.

Their tongues met as she pushed his shirt off of him, her hips grinding against his. He kissed her jaw, her neck, and her shoulder, easing her back slightly as his mouth found her breast and feasted.

She arched and threw her head back, her hands weaving through his hair as he licked and nipped at her sensitive flesh.

"I think is the part where I would yell cut," he snarled, kissing his way back up to her mouth.

"I think the scene could use some adlibbing at this point," breathed, kissing him heatedly, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, feeling the firm muscle through his shirt. "Do you like my initiative?"

"Very much so," he replied between kisses. "Have you got more to show me?"

"Loads," she moaned, turning her head to allow him her neck.

With every touch and caress of his mouth and hands, she rocked against him. A hiss of frustration left her lips, the layers of clothing left between them stopping her from getting the friction she needed.

"Matthew," she gasped. "Please. Please."

Understanding immediately, he rose from the chair, turning and placing her on the desk, his lips continuing to kiss her all over.

She whimpered against him, her hands quickly undoing his belt and zipper and throwing his trousers and shorts down his legs. She took hold of him desperately, smiling against his lips at his grunt of surprise. Stroking him with both hands, she took his bottom lip between her teeth, a dark laugh signalling her playful mood.

"Fuck, Mary," he growled.

"Yes, fuck Mary," she whispered, spreading her legs and pulling him forward.

They cried out together as he thrust inside of her. He took hold of her legs and lifted them up, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk and angling her exactly how he wanted her.

"Matthew!" she called, his second plunge hitting the exact spot that he knew drove her mad. He pushed in again, and again, moving faster with every cry drawn from her lips.

She held on to him, her body shaking as he took her hard. Her legs flailed uselessly, unable to break free of his grip, not that she wanted to. Over the sound of their harsh breathing and bodies moving together, the instrumental track continued to play, a strange, yet captivating soundtrack to their passion.

Her release drew closer and closer every time she took all of him until she could do nothing but clench her teeth to try and contain her shout when he sent her over.

He picked her up again, stumbling slightly while carrying her across to the sectional. He sat down, bringing her on top of him, his hands moving to her hips.

The suede was soft beneath her knees. She straddled his thighs and leant into him, gasping against his neck and shoulder, her hips setting a wanton rhythm.

"Let me have it," she whispered, clenching around him. "Let me have it. Please. Please."

She chanted while she kissed and licked his warm skin from his neck up to his ear and back. Her voice grew louder and more ragged when she felt his grip tighten and his body rise up to meet hers.

"Mary!" he grunted, holding her against him and letting go.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, May 14, 2019**

Edna handed a tablet to Jean-Paul and placed a stack of documents on Paul's desk. She turned and left the office, closing the door behind her.

"July is a difficult month. There's always so much competition," Paul commented in French, scanning the calendar on his computer screen. "Are you sure?"

"Xavier wanted it sooner, but I convinced him that July works," Jean-Paul replied. "All of the big summer films will have had their runs by then. We'll have over a thousand screens, so we should draw the numbers we need."

"Paris, London and Los Angeles in just over a week," Paul observed. "It's a tight schedule."

"I promised _Marie_ that we would have an international debut," Jean-Paul answered. "She's excited that we're doing it all in succession."

"You've spoken to her?" Paul asked.

"Of course. She's in London for this month and heading to Toronto in June," Jean-Paul advised.

"Filming her husband's movie," Paul added.

"That may end up working in our favour," Jean-Paul mused aloud. "He'll be so busy with his film that he won't be accompanying her to the premieres."

Paul glanced over at him curiously. "Is that right?"

"I've told Xavier that we'll be having an after-party in each city,' Jean-Paul continued. "One of our more exclusive ones after the official party, of course."

"Of course," Paul nodded. " _Marie's_ husband is quite popular now. If his movie succeeds…"

"It won't, not on the scale she wants," Jean-Paul scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "She's greedy. She wants the critical acclaim, the box office records, the screaming fans, all of it. How much satisfaction do you think she'll get being in a film with two Oscar winners? She'll get third billing at best, even if her husband does put her name before his in the credits. No, she'll keep looking for that starring vehicle, the one that lifts her up, and her alone."

"So the English movie she is filming now, and her husband's one…" Paul nodded.

"Understandable choices, notable entries on her IMDB page, ways for her to get her name back into Hollywood's good graces…but not nearly enough for her," Jean-Paul stated. "It's all playing out very well. Say she had agreed to your next film instead. There would always be a part of her wondering about what would have happened had she gone back to Hollywood, or worked with her husband. By letting her go and do these two films, and leaving her unfulfilled, it makes her even more likely to come back to us."

Paul contemplated his words. "Is Xavier as confident as you are?"

Jean-Paul shrugged. "He would prefer she be here, obviously, but he can appreciate the benefits of playing the long game. That is why the premiere week of _Duplicity_ is so crucial. She'll be with us – no husband, no assistant, no agents – just like old times."

"And if we bring her back into the fold, we not only take back influence over her career, but we have Xavier's continued support," Paul added.

"If we deliver her to him, we have a blank cheque," Jean-Paul chuckled.

Paul nodded. "Good. Aline is nice enough, and there are others who can fill a role if necessary, but _Marie_ has more potential. Far more."

"Agreed," Jean-Paul nodded with a knowing smile.

"It would help our cause if her husband turned out to be not as loyal and supportive as she thinks he is," Paul commented.

"Agreed," Jean-Paul replied.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, May 14, 2019**

"Mmm, there, has that convinced you?" Mary asked, arching her eyebrow at him before kissing her way back up his body.

Matthew swallowed and took a deep breath, a dumb smile filling his face as he reached out and stroked her naked back. "I think I see the merit in your suggested script changes now, yes."

She laughed and leant over him, rubbing against him playfully as she took a sip of water and returned the bottle to the nightstand. Lying on top of him, she rested her chin on his chest and smirked at his dazed expression.

"That was incredible," he nodded.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "It was rather good, yes."

"What's put you in such a mood? I'm not complaining but it isn't often that you can't even wait until after dinner," he joked.

She smirked. "Oh, I don't know. I suppose with my movie winding down, I'm anticipating getting started on _Damocles_. Seeing you working away was quite enticing. I don't think I've ever taken the time to really observe your process before."

"Process, or hassle, more accurately," he sighed. "Directing isn't nearly as glamorous as acting, and producing is even less so. I never thought I'd be choosing music for a movie on top of everything else, and this will be the second time I've had to do it. At least working with Jack makes it a bit easier."

She nodded. "I can't say that I pay very much attention to the music. It's one of those things that you have no clue about when you're filming. It's only afterwards that you even find out about it."

"I didn't think it was overly important, myself, but Jack showed me what a difference it can make when we were filming _10 Days_. The trick is not to overdo it, because sometimes the dialogue itself is more than enough to hold the attention of the audience. It's more about helping to set the mood."

"And what mood did you have in mind for the sex scene between Astrid and Damocles?" she asked. "The song you chose seems rather complicated."

"It varies," he smiled. "The scene itself is supposed to be quite poignant. He's living in a dream after switching places with Dionysius. He suddenly has everything he could possibly desire, including this gorgeous woman. It's all intoxicating and bewitching to him, and he becomes arrogant and greedy. Astrid plays on that, although it's subtle at this point. She makes it seem like he's the one seducing her, but we get little hints that she's far more conniving than she lets on."

"She's more than just a conquest," she agreed.

"Much more," he smiled. "You seem to already have a good handle on the script."

"Don't sound so surprised," she frowned at him.

"I'm not surprised. I just expected that you would be so occupied with finishing your current film that preparing for ours wouldn't be a priority," he noted.

She smirked. "I've been running lines in between scenes on set. I would never put off preparing for a role, or show up to filming absolutely cold."

"No, not intentionally," he shrugged. "I just thought…"

"What?" she looked at him suspiciously. "You thought that I wouldn't treat this film with the same level of commitment just because I happen to be married to the director?"

"Well, it does afford you certain privileges," he smiled.

"Does it really? It seems to me that the only privileges being taken are by you with me," she arched her eyebrow. "Was it truly necessary for me to model those outfits for you the other night?"

"I wanted to make sure they matched the look I envisioned for the character," he retorted.

"Mmm hmm, and how did what we got up to afterwards help you prepare?" she asked.

He chuckled. "I like to be thorough."

She rolled her eyes. "Where did you get the name Astrid from? It's not from Greek mythology, is it?"

"It's Norse. It means 'divinely beautiful'," he informed her, quirking his eyebrows.

She grinned. "How clever."

"Originally, your character's name was Brenda," he continued. "Brenda means 'sword'."

She laughed. "Ah, I see."

"However, I couldn't really picture you as a 'Brenda', and the significance of naming the character that would have been lost on most of the audience anyway, so I changed it," he explained.

"Wasn't the studio afraid that using all these exotic names would present marketing issues?" she questioned.

"The beauty of financing most of the film myself is that I don't have to get studio approval for such things," he chuckled. "Sony will get to see the final cut before they proceed with distribution, but it's understood by all that they don't get the final say."

"That sounds incredibly liberating, to not have to bow to anyone else's whim," she remarked.

"It is," he nodded. "The risk, of course, is that you rely on yourself so much that you lose any objectivity, but I think I have enough people around me to make sure I don't get too full of myself."

She laughed. "I don't think anyone could accuse you of making this into a vanity project. The script seems to give far more focus to Dionysius and Astrid."

"I wanted the audience to sort of experience what Damocles is going through, this crazy, life-changing sequence of events. Rather than follow him around for the whole movie, I wanted them to see things as he sees them. Hopefully, it helps them understand the choices he makes and the predicament he finds himself in, and to do that, I needed to show the people around him more, make it more about what they do, as opposed to what he does."

She smiled at the feeling in his voice.

"It could all go to shit, be a total failure, but at least it'll be my failure," he joked.

"Is that important to you?" she enquired, holding his gaze. "That you make it your own?"

"You forget that most of my career was spent following other people's orders," he replied. "Working with Thea was probably the first time I felt I was collaborating on something, that I was allowed to have an opinion and share it."

"I felt that way, too," she said softly. "She made it so comfortable on set. I never felt afraid to make suggestions or play around with a scene."

"Exactly. I will go back to just acting after this. It's exhausting to wear so many hats on a film, but for now, it's nice to call the shots," he smiled.

"Don't you worry, though, about how well it will be received? It's still millions of dollars that you're investing in it. It's not as if you can completely ignore the expectations attached to it," she enquired.

"No, that's ever present," he nodded. "In our business, we're always judged by someone. I'm ignoring that, but I think trying to anticipate what will be popular and what the critics will like is a losing proposition. If I make the movie that I want to make, at least there will be one person satisfied with it."

"Two," she corrected him. "Isobel will love it regardless."

He chuckled. "Or she'll at least pretend to. I think there's a lot of positives with this movie. You're in it. Denzel is in it. Many people have some idea of what the name Damocles means, so that's a bit of a draw. It would surely help to get good media coverage ahead of the premiere, but all I'm focusing on is filming and doing our best work."

"And I am to help you in making this movie a success?" she smirked.

"Of course. You're on my team now," he smiled, running his hand down her back.

"Am I? I thought I was just another member of the cast?" she replied with false indifference.

"You're my lead actress," he growled, turning them over so she was on her back. "I'm counting on you."

"Mmm, that would seem to have numerous implications," she grinned, closing her eyes as he kissed her neck.

"It does. You're absolutely essential," he whispered before capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss.

 **Townhouse of the Marquess and Marchioness of Hexham, Belgravia, London, England, May 21, 2019**

"Oh, my!" Cora exclaimed, her eyes widening as she came into the nursery. "So very well done, Edith!"

Edith smiled.

Mary rolled her eyes.

"The crib can be converted into a daybed when the time comes," Edith explained, following her mother. "The cushion is the same one that Bertie used when he was an infant."

Cora nodded. "Mirada mentioned that to me the other day. Oh, it's absolutely darling!"

Mary sighed and suppressed the urge to check her phone. When she agreed to have lunch with her Mum and Edith, she expected there to be plenty of baby talk. While everyone in the family adored little Emma, Edith and Bertie's child would be her parents' first grandson, and the heir to a title and estate as well. Even in 2019, the pending arrival of such a boy was given remarkable attention.

"This is comfortable," Cora noted, testing out the recliner next to the crib. "You'll appreciate this on many a late night!"

"Oh, please, Mum," Mary groaned. "Edith won't be nursing the child herself."

"She will a few times, still," Cora replied defensively. "I know all of you girls are so modern in your beliefs, but nursing your child is such a wonderful moment between mother and child."

"Yes, the idea of all the swelling, biting and mess that comes with it makes me all warm inside," Mary rolled her eyes. "Edith has a wet nurse, Mum, and the baby will still be getting his mother's milk, so it's not as if she isn't doing her duty. She's just going to be far more comfortable and get much more sleep, just as Sybil did."

Edith blushed and remained silent.

"You speak so dismissively of such things when you know nothing about the experience at all," Cora scoffed, rising from the chair and shaking her head. "I look forward to your children the most, Mary. To see you change your view so thoroughly will be quite amusing."

"Don't hold your breath on that," Mary huffed. "The nursery is lovely, Edith. The colours are quite nice."

"Thank you," Edith nodded.

"What are you saying?" Cora frowned. "You do intend to have children, don't you?"

"Someday, yes," Mary nodded. "It isn't a priority at the moment."

"Well, be careful with that," Cora warned. "When you finally get around to making it a priority, you may find it doesn't go as easily as you hoped."

"What does that mean?" Mary frowned. "It's not as if I'm too old. None of us are."

"No, but your sisters will already be on to their second children by the time you put your mind to it," Cora replied. "It takes proper planning, and you can never expect to become pregnant right away."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mum. I didn't say I was expecting to just have a baby and go back onset the next day."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Cora retorted. "Giving up your career is hardly something you'll welcome. I know that."

Mary frowned. "Give up my career? Why would I ever do that?"

Edith looked away.

"Mary, the first years of a child's life are the most crucial for his development. You can't possibly go flying off to a movie set in another country and leave the care of the child to a nanny."

"My child will also have a father, in case that wasn't obvious," Mary snapped.

"Matthew will likely be working as well," Cora noted. "A child needs stability, not being carried off from one set to another."

"Plenty of actresses bring their children to set with them," Mary countered.

"And you'll see what becomes of them," Cora sniffed. "There was a reason that your Granny and I both scaled back our work when we had children. Your Granny stopped altogether, and after Sybil was born, so did I."

"Mum, as noble as that sacrifice was, that was another time," Mary shook her head. "I don't see why I wouldn't continue working after taking a reasonable amount of time off."

"Even if you could practically manage it, the question is whether that's the right decision for you and your family," Cora replied.

"So why don't you suggest that Matthew cut back on his workload to take care of our child?" Mary questioned. "Why do you assume that I'm the one to do it?"

"Matthew's career is far better than yours, isn't it? It would make more sense for you to cut back than him."

Mary rolled her eyes and huffed.

"I bought these clothes yesterday," Edith volunteered, showing a set of onesies to her mother.

"Oh, aren't these just precious?" Cora smiled, taking one of the outfits and holding it up in front of her.

Mary didn't bother commenting, her lips pursed as she continued to seethe.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, May 28, 2019**

Alex removed his sunglasses and got out of the car. He touched the door handle briefly and the Mercedes chirped as the doors locked and the alarm system activated. He opened the door and went from the garage to the mud room, stepping out of his shoes and coming through to the kitchen.

"There was something wrong with the Netflix account. It kept asking me for the password and when I entered it, it kept saying it was wrong," Anna mumbled from her seat at the kitchen island. Her finger swiped back and forth across her tablet. "Also, when I was outside, I thought there might have been something wrong with the pool pump. It wasn't making the same noise that it usually does, but the water seemed fine. I don't know if you want to have someone take a look at it."

He came over and stood beside her. "Hello to you, too, love."

She raised her head and looked up at him, a smile on her face.

He leant down and kissed her.

"Hey babes," she greeted him. "How was your day?"

"The usual. Another day, another million-dollar commission," he teased, kissing her lightly again before going over to the fridge and getting a Coke for himself and a glass of milk for her.

"That's brilliant. There's a new bag that I want," she teased, taking the glass from him and having a sip.

"As long as it's less than a million dollars, it's yours," he smiled, sipping his Coke.

She blinked in surprise. "Wow. That's generous of you."

He chuckled and came around the island and back to her side. Placing a hand on her belly, he kissed her again. "I think you deserve a push present."

She laughed. "You already bought me a push present."

He shrugged. "Well, you are having twins, so…"

She giggled and shook her head. "I'm going to go ahead and order this thing before you change your mind."

He put his Coke down and stepped behind her, massaging her shoulders.

"Mmm," she sighed, smiling as she ordered the purse online. "Careful there, Mr Lewis. That's how we ended up pregnant with twins. It all started with a massage."

"Well, I don't think it's biologically possible for you to become any more pregnant than you are right now," he replied, kissing her cheek before moving down to her neck.

She laughed. "In that case, we ought to take advantage. Although I don't think I can get up on to the island, so you'll have to make do with something more conventional, like a bed."

He hummed against her skin. "How are you feeling? Doing okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I gained another pound this week, and your son is squirming constantly."

"Probably because your daughter keeps shoving him around," he joked. "Did you try talking to them?"

"I did," she nodded, coverings his hands with hers as he wrapped his arms around her. "We had a nice little chat and that seemed to calm them down a bit."

"Good. Now, about that bed you mentioned," he smirked.

She laughed and turned around, holding her hands out. "You'll have to help me up."

He quirked his eyebrows before lifting her up off the stool.

"Alex!" she squeaked, grabbing on to his shoulders as he cradled her in his arms. "What are you doing?"

"Showing you that there's nothing wrong with your extra weight," he replied, holding her easily and heading towards the living room and the stairs beyond. "You are still fucking hot as hell and I'm going to prove it to you."

She laughed and nuzzled against his neck, snuggling against him. "Hmm, maybe I should have you carry me around more often. This is rather nice."

He smiled and quickly brought her upstairs.

 **Condo Apartment, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, May 28, 2019**

"And here we are. The fridge is empty, but there's a 24-hour grocery store nearby, and they left a full tank of gas in the car. Just make sure you fill it back up before you go, otherwise, they'll add a charge to the final invoice," the agent chirped, smiling as she held the door open.

"Of course," Green replied, nodding to her and stepping into the apartment. He placed his bag on the floor and looked around the large living room. Walking across the carpet, he went over to the window and took in the view.

"It's East-facing, so you can't really see the CN Tower," the agent noted. "However, you do get a bit of a peek at all the amazing homes here in Rosedale. They're quite impressive."

"Very impressive," he agreed, his eyes narrowing as he looked in one particular direction.

"If that will be all, then, you have my contact information. Anything you need, anytime, call my office and we'll take care of it for you," the agent assured him.

"Excellent," he replied, returning to the marble floor of the foyer and taking the keys from her. "I'm sure it will all turn out fine."

"Any plans for your stay here in Toronto, Mr Harman?" the agent asked, turning for the door.

"Just visiting an old friend," Green answered, seeing her out.


	19. Chapter 19

**Previously:**

 **Condo Apartment, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, May 28, 2019**

"And here we are. The fridge is empty, but there's a 24-hour grocery store nearby, and they left a full tank of gas in the car. Just make sure you fill it back up before you go, otherwise they'll add a charge to the final invoice," the agent chirped, smiling as she held the door open.

"Of course," Green replied, nodding to her and stepping into the apartment. He placed his bag on the floor and looked around the large living room. Walking across the carpet, he went over to the window and took in the view.

"It's East-facing, so you can't really see the CN Tower," the agent noted. "However, you do get a bit of a peek at all the amazing homes here in Rosedale. They're quite impressive."

"Very impressive," he agreed, his eyes narrowing as he looked in one particular direction.

"If that will be all, then, you have my contact information. Anything you need, anytime, call my office and we'll take care of it for you," the agent assured him.

"Excellent," he replied, returning to the marble floor of the foyer and taking the keys from her. "I'm sure it will all turn out fine."

"Any plans for your stay here in Toronto, Mr. Harman?" the agent asked, turning for the door.

"Just visiting an old friend," Green answered, seeing her out.

 **Chapter 19:**

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 1, 2019**

Mary frowned, her arms crossed over her chest. She glanced at the walk-in closet again. One half of it was filled with Matthew's clothes and shoes. The other was empty, the overhead shelves bare, and bunches of coat hangers, still wrapped in plastic, hung neatly from the rack.

It seemed a lifetime ago since she last lived in Toronto. Her years here spent filming _Paladin_ had been far more life-changing than she could have ever imagined. Not only had her popularity spiked here from being on a hit television show, but she had found her independence, living in another country, an ocean away from home, with only Anna to accompany her. It was here that she was nominated for her first Emmy. It was here that she learned about the business in all of its dazzling glory and deplorable cruelty. It was here that she became known to millions.

It was here, much to her shock, that she fell in love with Matthew all over again.

Now she was back, filming _Damocles_ here for three months. It made sense that they would stay in Matthew's downtown apartment, rather than rent a house for the summer as Denzel was doing. The locations they would be shooting in were all within walking distance of this building, and she knew her way around the neighbourhood. It would be refreshing to not have to rely on a car service to get her home from the studio at the end of the day. All in all, it was almost perfect.

Almost.

She had spent countless nights here, going back to when she and Matthew had their casual sex arrangement, though to be fair, during that time, she always left straight away rather than actually spend the night with him. His bed was large and comfortable. The terrace had a decent view. The kitchen was a bit small, but functional, the neighbourhood was busy, but safe, and there were no issues with noisy neighbours, or false fire alarms in the middle of the night.

However, back when they last stayed here together, she had an entire luxury condo back at the Trump Hotel at her disposal. They spent most of their time here, but she never had to keep more than a few outfits and her toiletries handy, and she honestly didn't care about the décor because she never thought of the place as hers. With the two of them living here for the next while, she had to move in properly, and thus far, her chances of fitting in seamlessly were not looking good at all.

She sighed and shook her head. Lack of closet space was just one of her concerns. His furniture was rather dated, comprised of pieces that his aunt picked out ages ago. The most modern thing in the place was Matthew's expensive bicycle. The downstairs gym was decent enough, but when she used to film at Pinewood, she and Anna liked to go running along the lake. Using a treadmill, or trying to brave the dense downtown streets was quite unappealing to her. For a one bedroom plus den in downtown Toronto, Matthew's condo was quite large, but it still was tiny compared to her usual accommodations. They would be crammed in here together, which he didn't mind at all, but she liked having her space every once in a while.

She rolled her eyes. The disapproving voices of Granny, Mum, and her sisters rang in her head. Sybil couldn't care less where she and Tom lived. Their townhouse in Brooklyn was lovely, but when they first moved to Manhattan, they had a ridiculously small apartment. Edith now called an immense castle home, but she would live in a tent if her husband told her to. Why did Mary always have to be the high maintenance one, they would ask her imploringly. Why couldn't she just be happy to be with Matthew and not be so demanding?

She did a mental appraisal of how much of her clothes could fit in her half of the closet. If she kept the rest in her suitcases in the den and just took out whatever items were necessary when needed, that might work. It would require that her outfits be dry cleaned and pressed more often, but she could have Ivy arrange all of that. As for the rest of it, well, the gym was deserted most of the time, so that was a plus. Matthew would be busy at all hours with viewing dailies, doing press, overseeing the crew and other production tasks, so she could always steal away if she needed any alone time. She could go and see Anna, or escape to a café, just go shopping or up the street to the AGO. As for the furniture, well that wasn't going to change. Their stay here was temporary though, and it wasn't as if Matthew would want to bring any of it back to London, so there was that.

As a last resort, she would just convince him to go out to eat, or get a hotel room to take a break from the stress of filming. That would help keep her mind off the fact that the apartment lacked pretty much everything she wanted in a residence.

Proud of herself, she smiled when she heard the door open and Matthew's heavy footsteps come into the foyer.

"Darling?" he called.

"In here," she answered.

"Ah, hello," he smiled, coming into the bedroom and kissing her lightly. "Getting settled?"

"Just about," she nodded. "It not as if it's difficult. I have lived here before, haven't I?"

He chuckled. "Yes, but that was a bit different. You had your own place to go back to, for one."

She arched her eyebrow, slightly curious at his insinuation. "We spent most of our nights here, if I recall correctly. Anyway, what does it matter?"

"It doesn't matter, but you're not used to compromising when it comes to where you stay," he smiled. He looked at the closet. "This seems woefully small, for one."

"It's perfectly fine," she retorted, arching her eyebrow defensively. "We're here to work, Matthew. We're not on vacation."

He smirked at her and leaned against the door frame. "I'm glad to hear that. So the lack of water pressure in the stand-up shower won't bother you?"

She glanced behind them at the ensuite bathroom. The shower consisted of a glassed-in chamber that barely fit the two of them. The bathtub was in the larger bathroom off the living room. The water pressure in the building was quite horrible, and she swallowed tightly at the memory.

"Honestly, darling, I'll probably be so exhausted when I get back from the set that I'll barely notice," she replied with a brave smile.

"Mmm hmm," he nodded. "Well, after you're done unpacking, I'm going to take your suitcases down to the storage locker. There's no room for them up here."

She didn't bother disguising her frown this time. "But why? I was just going to keep them in the den."

"I use the den as a bit of an office and editing suite now," he informed her. "It worked brilliantly on _10 Days_. I can do all my work in there and it helps me get a head start for the next day. It can get quite messy, however, because I put a few monitors in there together with the server, all of my storyboards, plus I have the surround speakers set up so I can get a true sense of how the audio tracks will sound in the theatre."

"I see," she answered slowly. The storage locker was dry and well lit, but keeping her clothes down there was out of the question. She wasn't going to go back and forth from the parking garage to the apartment every time she needed to change.

"Oh, that reminds me, I need to pick up some cases of water," he added. "The fridge filter seems to be breaking down. It doesn't make ice anymore, either."

She blinked. While it was easy enough to keep bottled water in the fridge, another reminder of something breaking down in the condo wasn't something she needed.

"That won't be a problem for you, will it?" he asked.

"Why would it be?" she shrugged. "Bottled water is fine."

"Excellent. I think you're right. We're here to work. Luxuries and amenities aren't important. What does it matter if you don't have a proper vanity here and there isn't enough counter space for all of your cosmetics?" he suggested.

Her eyes widened. Even though she would be going to the hair and make-up trailer every day, she liked to have her own kit at home. Having an overnight bag worked before when she knew she could go back to her own place where everything was properly stored, but now that she would be living here, she needed enough space for her different creams, containers and brushes, not to mention some of her facial masks, eyeliner and lipstick needed to be kept in the fridge to remain cool. She shuddered to think of her expensive products scattered about when Matthew was hunting around for a late-night snack.

"I'll make do," she replied.

He pursed his lips for a moment before he shook his head and began laughing merrily.

She glared at him. "What precisely is so funny?"

He pulled her into a hug, which she resisted at first. "You," he stated. "You and your adorable attempt to prove that you are capable of roughing it in a common apartment."

"What are you talking about?" she grumbled.

He stepped back and looked at her, the silly smile still on his face. "I need you to be at your best on set, which means I need you to be comfortable off-set. I'm going to clear out my things from the closet so you can use the entire space. I was also joking about the fridge, though the shower water pressure I can't fix, I'm afraid. Something about the city plumbing being ancient is the reason for why it's so rubbish. There's a chest of drawers for the bathroom to help store your things, as well."

She blinked in surprise. "But…that's not necessary, darling, honestly! I can adapt! I'm perfectly capable."

He kissed her lightly before drawing back. "You're perfectly capable of jumping off the terrace and surviving the fall from this height with only a few broken bones, but that doesn't mean you have to prove it."

He stepped past her and began pulling his clothes down from his side of the closet.

"But where will you put your clothes?" she asked, watching him incredulously.

"In storage," he answered, filling one of his suitcases. "Most of these are winter clothes, anyway, and I need far less space than you. The dresser is enough."

She sighed as she watched him quickly clear out his things, ceding the only bedroom closet to her. "I can't believe you're doing this."

"Why not? What do I care about some closet space?" he asked, smirking as he zipped up his suitcase and wheeled it past her and towards the living room.

"Doesn't it annoy you?" she asked, coming out after him. "Having to constantly cater to my…my…"

"Your idiosyncrasies? Your eccentricities?" he offered.

She frowned. "My preferences, I was going to say."

He chuckled. "Why would it annoy me? You are who you are."

That didn't make her feel better at all. "And who is that? Some spoiled, stuck-up aristocrat?"

"Someone who knows what she wants, and doesn't just settle," he said easily, reaching out and caressing her cheek. "I'm going to go throw this downstairs. We should grab some lunch. How's Japanese sound?"

"Fine," she answered quickly. "But, Matthew, being someone who doesn't just settle could be a bad thing, couldn't it?"

"Perhaps, although in your case, I don't think so," he answered, heading towards the door.

"But how do you know?" she pleaded.

He glanced back at her and grinned confidently. "I know, my darling, because you didn't settle when it came to your choice of husband, and look at how well that turned out?"

She frowned at his answer, unable to come up with a response before he was out the door and down the hall with his suitcase. Giving up, she allowed a smile to return to her face on her way to the bedroom to fill up her new walk-in closet.

 **Olliffe Butcher Shop, Summerhill, Toronto, Canada, June 4, 2019**

"Let me see the top sirloin there," Anna instructed, pointing at the cuts of meat on display in the cooler. "Not that one. No, not that one. That one. Yeah."

The butcher removed the chosen steak and held it across the counter for her to inspect. She examined it with a suspicious eye as if she could picture how the meat would taste from a simple glance.

"Are you sure you should be down here, Mrs. Lewis?" the butcher asked. "We can just fill your usual order. You know we'll take care of you."

"Afraid I might find something wrong, are you?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the steak.

"No, ma'am. I'm afraid of what the mister will do to me if he finds out you came down here and stayed on your feet too long," the butcher answered.

She glanced up at him in warning. "Don't you worry about him. You worry about finding me a steak that's not covered in fat like these ones here. These are supposed to be extra lean."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll get you a cut from the back," the butcher replied crisply, putting back the steak in the cooler and heading to the back of the store.

She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder and waited patiently. The man was probably right. Dr. Ryder had not strictly put her on bed rest yet, but she was supposed to be taking it easy as these last weeks of her pregnancy approached. Following her last scan, they decided to do a scheduled C-section if the twins didn't arrive in another three weeks. They were already larger than the average set, for which she blamed her husband entirely. If her babies already had exceptional height, it was due to their father, clearly.

She strummed her fingers on the glass of the cooler while she waited for the butcher to return. If these steaks were good, she would order a larger batch to last them over the summer. After much arguing with Alex and cajoling from Mary and Sybil, she had relented and cancelled the Canada Day barbecue. While she knew she would be in no condition to host a pool party, she was hoping to at least have a few people over. They chose a more realistic date of Civic Holiday weekend in August, when the twins would be about a month old. The prospect of being cooped up in her house with both Mum and her mother-in-law still made her shudder. They were due to arrive in mid-July. She made Alex promise each day that he would not be going back to work for the rest of the summer and leaving her to fend for herself.

"Here you go, Mrs. Lewis," the butcher called, returning with a thick cut of meat cradled in his hands.

She looked it over closely, finally allowing him to see her smile and nod with approval. "Much better. I'll take three for now, and set aside another ten. I'll let you know by the end of the week."

"Yes, ma'am," the butcher replied, leaving to wrap up the order.

She glanced around the shop. Though plenty of people came to this high-end location just to brag that they didn't get their steaks from the grocery store, food was one thing that she and Alex took very seriously. They spent so much of the past year traveling that they wanted to enjoy this summer at home in Toronto to the fullest. With her limited diet, lean beef was one of the things she could still enjoy. She had given up on fish for the foreseeable future. Getting out and picking out the evening's meal was one of the few tasks she had left that made her feel useful.

She frowned when she spotted someone peering into the store through the large bay window. It was difficult to see through the crowd, but he was a tall man, thin and wiry, wearing dark sunglasses and a black baseball cap. The cap seemed strange in particular since it didn't have the logo of any of the local pro sports teams on it. Who wore a nondescript black cap, particularly in June?

Before she could contemplate the matter any further, the figure disappeared, swallowed up by the wave of pedestrians that strolled by. She frowned. There was something not quite right about that man, something that made her take notice.

"Three top sirloin steaks, Mrs. Lewis," the butcher announced, handing her a plastic bag containing her prized purchases. She mumbled her thanks before taking out her phone and calling for the car service to come pick her up, her eyes moving back to the window and seeing no sign of the tall stranger. By the time she was in the car headed back home, she didn't remember having seen him at all.

 **Xanadu Strip Club, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 7, 2019**

Green walked briskly up the stairs and into the dimly lit room. Hip-hop music was blasting from the speakers while a girl who looked no more than nineteen was fondling her bare breasts on stage. The crowd was sparse, just a few men scattered around the chairs and couches. The mid-afternoon was usually dead here, which was why he chose this time to meet.

He didn't bother looking at the dancer as he continued towards a booth in the back. The girl was fit, but she was a redhead, so she didn't appeal to him at all. Arriving at his destination, he slid into the booth and accepted the bottle of Stella Artois slid across to him.

"Don't they have any blondes?" he asked, taking a sip of the beer.

"Wait a while," the dealer replied. "This one's new. They're breaking her in."

"I'm sure they are," Green replied, glancing around at the burly security guards chatting up the nearly naked waitresses. Even the employees looked bored. "You got it all?"

"Who are you talking to, come on," the dealer scoffed. He nodded and a security guard came over and handed Green a black backpack.

Green unzipped the backpack and checked over the contents. The coloured lights from the stage cast just enough of a glow for him to inspect the bottles and other items contained within.

"Be careful when you pour the chloroform," the dealer warned. "The fumes can fly up and fuck you right up."

Green nodded. "What's the dose for the Cytotec?"

"One pill taken orally, or you can cut it and inject it up inside her directly," the dealer replied.

"And how long before she goes into labour?" Green asked, zipping up the backpack again.

"Works pretty fast. You want to be careful with that shit. She could tear and bleed out, and I doubt you want to be the one to take her to the hospital," the dealer responded.

"Don't worry. I just need to have the threat of it. I won't have to use it. She'll do anything to protect those babies, and I'm going to find out exactly what," Green smirked, passing an envelope across the table.

"You're a sick fuck," the dealer laughed, shaking his head as he opened the envelope and ran his thumb over the stack of bills. "This bitch must be some fucking piece of ass to make you set all of this up."

"She is," Green nodded. "I'll send you a copy of the video. You'll see what I mean then."

"I like screamers," the dealer smirked, shaking Green's hand.

"She'll be begging me for it, trust," Green chuckled, standing up and slinging the backpack over his shoulder. "We good?"

"Good," the dealer confirmed. "Enjoy."

"I always do," Green said, heading towards the exit. Passing around the stage, his eyes wandered to the young stripper, who was bent over and bouncing her ass up and down against the metal pole behind her.

He grinned and headed for the exit.

He emerged onto the busy, sun-drenched street. Putting on his sunglasses, he kept his head down and walked swiftly away from the strip club. After a few steps, he saw a pair of police cars rapidly approaching, their lights flashing brightly as cars pulled over to let them through. Glancing away, he kept walking, turning his face from the street, not looking up. He held his breath until the cars passed by and took the first side street to put as much distance between him and them as he could.

 **38** **th** **Floor, Bay Adelaide Centre, Financial District, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 11, 2019**

"I sometimes suspect that you don't fully appreciate the amount of hard work and sacrifice that I've made for you, my dear, for us, for our people," Denzel sneered, raising his chin and narrowing his eyes. "Now, I don't need your platitudes, but I do demand your respect."

"Respect?" Mary laughed. "Respect is neither bought nor given. Respect is earned, husband. The fact that you seem to believe that you deserve respect when all you've done is inherit your title, your fortune, and your power, speaks volumes about your true character. I honoured my father's agreement with you and married you. I have remained loyal and performed my duties all these years without complaint. Do not ask of me any more than that."

"I ask for nothing. I require that you know your place," he retorted.

"My place is, as it has ever been, at your side. You may command my movements, but do not pretend to control my thoughts," she scoffed. "Your subjects may worship you, but I do not."

"You think I have fallen into everything I have?" he questioned. "You think that without my family, I am nothing?"

"What have you ever built for yourself?" she asked snidely.

"If you think that anyone could do what I do, then let us put it to the test," he suggested, linking his hands behind him and pacing slowly around the room. She followed him, standing still as he neared.

"I will step down," he declared, turning his head and snarling in her ear. "I will put someone else in power, a commoner, a nobody. Let's see how well things run without me, if you believe my role is so easily filled?"

"What would that prove? You're merely putting a pawn in your place while you take a holiday," she countered, not looking at him.

He chuckled darkly, walking around her and hissing in her other ear. "I will find someone with no ties to either one of us, or our families – a clerk, or lowly manager – someone with great ambition but no actual means to achieve it. That man will take my place, and when he is crushed under the weight of his gifted position, you will know that mine is not so easy a role to play."

She frowned for a moment before pursing her lips in determination. "And if he should succeed?"

"Perhaps I might give you what you have always wanted – your freedom," he said lightly. "Leave to pursue the life you choose, no longer bound by your vows to me."

A flicker of hope briefly widened her eyes.

"But if I am right, and the man fails, you will acknowledge my victory, abandon the many projects you have taken on, and return to your true mission – giving me an heir," he snapped.

Her lip curled in disgust.

"Do we have terms?" he asked lightly.

She turned her head and glared at him. "We have terms."

"And cut!" Matthew called, rising from his chair and coming on to the set. "Nice work."

Denzel and Mary glanced at each other for a moment before looking at Matthew expectantly.

"You good with that?" Denzel asked slowly.

"Yes, great, really good stuff," Matthew nodded.

Mary arched her eyebrow. "Do you want us to run it again? Maybe we can be a bit more aggressive with the dialogue?"

"Yeah, put more anger into it?" Denzel agreed.

"Oh, well, erm, no, that's all right. Let's break for lunch and we can pick it up in the afternoon with the scene where Dionysius meets Damocles," Matthew replied.

The assistants called out that the cast and crew could break for lunch and Matthew went over to watch the playback of the last take. Denzel and Mary shared a polite smile before they headed off to the elevators to go back downstairs.

 **Sin & Redemption Pub, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 11, 2019**

Matthew wandered into the pub, passing the bar and going through into the next room. Unlike the posh lounges and bars across the city, this place was a proper pub with its wood panelled walls, iron chandeliers, circular tables and hardback chairs. Being across from the art gallery and close to the art college and university, the clientele was a mix of students and locals, and best of all, no one cared who he was. When he filmed _10 Days_ , this was one of the spots that the cast and crew took over after long days and nights of shooting, and as Matthew had enlisted many of the same people for _Damocles_ , they decided to keep the bar on their rotating list of places to unwind.

He sat down wearily in the corner table taken over by his people, and a Belgian beer was quickly placed before him. Raising his pint to the others, he took a long sip and sat back, the tension in his arms and legs easing somewhat.

A week into filming and everything felt so much different to him from any of his other projects. He was pleased with how things were going – the pace, the performances – directing Denzel and acting alongside him and Mary was fun. Summer in Toronto was warm and vibrant, and the set was always full of energy. He couldn't seem to stop thinking of the million things he had to do, however. His schedule was so jammed full that he wouldn't be able to attend any of Mary's premieres for _Duplicity_. She was taking a week off in July to go back to Paris, and he couldn't find any time to accompany her. She said it was fine, but he still felt badly. That was, he felt badly for a moment. He didn't have any time to dwell on anything before he had to move on to the next urgent matter. Even now as he enjoyed his beer, he worried that he should head out soon to go back home and review his notes for the next day of filming, as well as take a look at his calendar again to see what was coming.

"Matthew, Mary's here."

He glanced up and blinked as his wife came into the pub. She had wrapped a few hours earlier and left him to keep working. They had only left the set together once in the first week. Having changed into a red tank-top, white shorts that showed off her long legs, and white ballet sandals, she had his full attention. Coming over and sitting down next to him, she gave him a quick kiss before reaching over and stealing his beer.

"Hi," he mumbled, watching her take a sip.

"Hello," she answered. "All done for the night?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "I was just thinking about heading out. I've got a bunch of things to get to."

"I think you can afford to take the rest of the night off, can't you?" she offered. "We're only in the first week. The assistants have sent out the call sheet for tomorrow and the crew is all here, so clearly everything is in place already."

He glanced over at the others laughing and chatting away. "I suppose," he finally admitted.

"Good," she smiled. "Now that you won't be distracted, I have something to discuss with you."

He turned to face her and nodded. "Go on."

She arched her eyebrow. "You, my darling, are far too nice."

He frowned. "What?"

She smiled and took his hand in hers, playing with his fingers. "Throughout this first week, you've been far too deferential on set. You hardly ask us to try anything different. Whenever we shoot a scene, you just sit there and watch, and after a few takes, that's it, that's all. I know you must have more of an opinion than that."

"I think that everything is going quite well," he replied.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, but are we interpreting your script the way that you want? Is this the best version of the film that it could be? For a director, you're doing precious little…directing."

He huffed in annoyance. "Yelling and waving my arms around like a lunatic is hardly my style. If you were doing something wrong, I would tell you."

"Would you? Or is it that you're afraid to push your idol and your wife as much as you actually want to?" she questioned.

"It's not that. Where is this coming from? Do you want me to yell at you?" he asked.

"Not unless you have good reason to," she answered. "However, as much as I enjoy how in synch we are as both actors and husband and wife, I do not pretend to think that my first instinct as to how my character should behave in a scene is completely perfect. You need to tell me what I can do better, and you've hardly done that."

"Fine," he responded tightly. "I'll criticize you vehemently from now on."

She laughed and shook her head. "If it makes you feel any better, Denzel agrees with me."

His mouth fell open. "What?"

"Oh, so now you're concerned?" she noted, looking at him pointedly.

"What did he say?" he asked.

"The exact same thing that I just told you," she rolled her eyes. "He doesn't want you to just rubber stamp everything we do. He thinks you're holding back out of respect. He wants you to be more of an asshole, as he put it."

"Damn," he muttered, shaking his head.

"What you need to do is remember that this is your film," she declared. "Denzel and I are just actors. It's your script, your vision, your name that's attached to it. It doesn't matter how many accolades he has, or the fact that I'm your wife. We work for you, darling, and you need to take charge."

He exhaled heavily and nodded. "You're right, of course."

"Rooney told me that you're very collaborative, and you are, but it seems to me that you were far more assertive on _10 Days_ than you've been with us so far. Don't change your style just because you have a more esteemed cast," she advised.

He looked at her curiously. "You spoke to Rooney?"

"Of course, I did," she answered. "I never go into a project without knowing who I'm dealing with."

He smirked. "I think you have far more insight into who I am than she does."

She smiled. "In some areas, yes, but you've never directed me before, so I needed to do my research."

He grinned.

She frowned at him. "You've never directed me _in public_ before. Goodness."

He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders. "I suppose I've just been overly cautious because there's so much riding on this movie. I want it to be your triumphant return to Hollywood."

"That's very sweet, and I do enjoy how you take care of me, but we all need to be pushed so that we can give our best performances. Don't be afraid to be demanding. I won't hold it against you," she assured him.

"I'm not quite sure that I believe that," he joked.

"Fine. I won't hold it against you in front of everyone else," she clarified.

"Fair enough," he chuckled, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.

 **Condo Apartment, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 12, 2019**

Green frowned, his eyes flicking across his laptop screen. He moved his fingers over the touchscreen, switching from the satellite view of the luxury mansion that allowed him to see the swimming pool in the backyard to a street view of the front of the house. There were numerous mature trees that lined along the kerbs, which would shield him well enough from the neighbours. It would be risky to park in the driveway, but if he left the car further down the road, getting Anna from the house to the vehicle might pose a challenge. He stroked his chin in thought.

The very sight of the opulent residence that she shared with her husband stoked his anger. He knew she had married rich, but seeing the clear evidence of it enraged him. They had come from similar working class backgrounds, Green and Anna, and while he had scraped and clawed to rise above his humble beginnings, she had gone off and seduced a millionaire. All the years he had put in to build his career, and she was just playing at being a P.A. for her best friend. He hadn't thought about it so deeply before, but the bitch knew what she was doing all along. She wasn't nearly the naïve little woman she made herself out to be. She used him, flirted with him, drew him in, and just when he was about to get some, she retreated back to her rich husband and her posh life. From the moment they met, Green had schemed to bring her under his power, to use drugs and sex to break down her defences, show her a side of herself that she hadn't explored before. Now, he saw her in an entirely different light. She was just as manipulative as any woman, and she deserved to be taught a lesson.

He got up from his chair and walked across the room, needing to rest his eyes for a bit from staring at the computer screen. For the past week, he spent hours holed up in here figuring out how to get into the house undetected and confront Anna when she was alone. It would take precision, discipline, careful planning and a little bit of luck, however, he was confident in his chances. She and her husband had a set routine. All he had to do was be prepared, and wait. With every passing day, he gained more information on her comings and goings. She would be confined to bed rest in these final weeks leading up to her due date. He just needed to find a time to strike.

Reaching a table against the far wall, he took stock of the items he would be bringing with him. The handcuffs, drugs, camera and towels had been packed away numerous times to ensure they fit snugly into his bag and could be easily reached and retrieved. He would have a small window to slip into the house undetected, and an even smaller one to subdue her before she had a chance to call for help. The surveillance reports that he had paid dearly for indicated that there were certain days during the week where too many people were coming in and out of the house – the cleaning staff, grocery delivery people and what not. Thankfully there weren't any dogs nearby, and the house was in a quiet area where few pedestrians and joggers came around.

Satisfied after going over the equipment yet again, he went to the kitchen and got himself a bottle of water. Sipping it slowly, he walked over to the large window and looked out. Anna's home wasn't entirely visible through the lush foliage, but he knew the general vicinity. He imagined her lounging in the pool at this very moment, her lush breasts barely covered by her bikini, her swollen belly and rounded hips showing off her pregnancy. Ideally, he would have fucked her before, when she body was tight and fit, but he wouldn't be deterred. Defiling her now, when she was on the cusp of motherhood, would make his revenge all the sweeter.

His blood coursing through his veins, he smiled and went back to his desk, staring at the map again as he considered the ideal path to get into the house.

 **High Park, Toronto, Canada, June 14, 2019**

"Do it again," Matthew called, looking at the monitor from his post off-set. "I want you to sing it this time."

Denzel frowned and looked over at him in confusion. "You want me to sing it?"

"That's right," Matthew confirmed. "Sing it."

Some of the crew exchanged quizzical looks with each other. The other actors just looked on with curious expressions.

"Did you change this to a musical without telling us?" Denzel questioned with a careful smirk.

Matthew rose from his chair and walked over to the veteran actor, a comfortable smile on his face.

"Tell me if you think this makes sense," Matthew began. "Every film you do, people always say 'that's Denzel'. All the different roles you've done, people see your performance as a 'Denzel' performance – an intense, serious, brooding character. I want to try and get past all that."

"Okay," Denzel nodded slowly. "How does singing change that?"

Matthew smiled. "Change it up a bit. Approach the dialogue from a different angle. Singing your lines will change your voice. After this take, when we go back to doing it for real, think about the different tone and inflection you used and try it out with the spoken dialogue. Make it lighter, more human. You're not snarling the lines, you're almost singing them. Just see how it goes."

Denzel looked at him questioningly but eventually relented. "All right. Remember, though, you asked for it."

Matthew laughed and bumped fists with his actor. "Understood. I'll warn the crew to cover their ears. You never know, though. If it's good, we'll put it on the soundtrack."

Denzel laughed heartily and waved his finger at Matthew.

Matthew went back to his director's chair and called for quiet on the set. The actors took their marks, and the crew all watched on in anticipation of what would surely be a memorable take.

"Action!" Matthew called.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 15, 2019**

"You know, you could have a revolt on your hands."

Matthew frowned and looked up from the computer. Mary was curled up on the sofa next to him, sipping her tea, an amused smirk on her face. Her bare legs were tucked beneath her and she wore a silk camisole top with a lace trim.

"A revolt? What for?" he asked.

"You've become rather overbearing," she noted.

"Overbearing?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide. "How?"

"You're constantly asking for more," she explained. "Every take that we do, you have a new suggestion, a new idea for us to try. We're all struggling to keep up. It seems as if you're never satisfied."

"You were the one who told me to be more demanding!" he sputtered. "You said everyone needed a push to give their best performance! That's what I've been doing – pushing."

"I did say that, yes, but you're not just pushing now, you're shoving with both hands," she clarified. "Some of the cast think you're quite full of yourself."

"Full of myself?!" he repeated. "Who thinks that?"

"Well, I do, for one," she nodded, placing her tea cup and saucer on the coffee table.

His expression turned from aghast to suspicious in less than a second. "You do. Yes, and?"

"And I'm sure there are others," she shrugged. "Not everyone is willing to come out and say it explicitly, for fear of retribution, you see."

"You conniving, manipulative, ruthless…" he sputtered, turning and advancing towards her.

"At last, is it now my turn to have some of the Master's attention?" she teased, backing up to the end of the sofa.

"You have my attention day and night," he protested, rising up on his knees and crawling over her. "Who do you think I'm staring at during every scene?"

"I would have thought you'd be all starry-eyed over Denzel," she laughed, moving on to her back as he loomed above her.

"He's all right, but he doesn't have your particular combination of brains and beauty," he leered, leaning down and kissing her neck.

She hummed pleasantly and pulled him closer. "You can kiss me, but that's it. You need to get back to work, don't you?"

"Mmm hmm, and what about you? You're on the call sheet for tomorrow, if I recall correctly," he replied, his mouth hovering over her skin.

"I'm ready," she sighed, closing her eyes and arching against him as he licked her just below her ear. "All set to go."

"Are you? I'd like to be the judge of that," he stated, his hand slipping beneath her top and caressing her ribs.

"Go on and test me," she whispered huskily. "I'm a professional. You can't distract me."

"Very well. Where does your first scene open?" he asked, his other hand moving down and lifting her leg.

"Astrid is trying to teach Damocles about his duties, now that he has traded places with Dionysius as King," she recited, her hands moving up and down his back. "She grows frustrated at his incompetence."

"He's not incompetent," he grumbled, kissing her shoulder. "He's just trying to adjust to his new life."

"Right," she said dismissively. "Not incompetent. It's just that he has no idea what he's doing and is completely clueless."

"I suppose that's true, although the way you say it doesn't make it sound nearly as innocent as I imagined it," he conceded, lifting her top and kissing her stomach.

She grinned. "Anyway, the scene opens with the two of them in the library, and she's testing him on what he's learned. Rather than show any commitment whatsoever, he remains the new boy, thrilled with his good fortune and keeping his head in the clouds."

"I don't remember adding any of that to the script notes," he mentioned, flicking open the button of her shorts.

"An overwhelmed neophyte blessed with incredible luck and having a beautiful, brilliant woman as his mentor…I can't imagine where you found the inspiration for these characters," she smirked, opening her eyes and looking down at him.

"I resent that implication, Lady Mary," he objected, kissing his way along her waist. "Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental."

She closed her eyes and smoothed her hair away from her face, taking in a sharp breath when he tugged her shorts off and kissed her through her lace thong.

"Are you getting distracted?" he asked lightly, his hands sliding down and parting her thighs.

She bit her hand but couldn't stop the moan from leaving her lips. "Astrid grows more and more…annoyed…and eventually, scolds Damocles for not taking things seriously…enough."

"He refuses to be cowed," he replied, kissing her thigh. "He tells her that she's far too uptight, that she needs to relax, let herself enjoy life a bit more."

She smiled. "She calls him out on his chauvinist, patriarchal bullshit and reminds him that his position carries responsibilities, and that he can indulge in all the stupid games and bed all the whores he wants in his new life, but if he ever wants to be actually respected, rather than be laughed at as the boy made into a King, he needs to earn it."

He chuckled. "I knew you would love those lines."

"It's quite generous of you to allow me the chance to tear into you like that," she nodded. "I imagine the audience will find it surprising, and intriguing."

"Just because we're married doesn't mean our characters must always get along," he stated. "Besides, people love it when there's tension between two characters. It makes the payoff when they get together far more profound. Enemies to lovers – that's a popular trope, as they say."

"I suppose I should be grateful that you didn't have us jumping into bed together right from the first scene," she smirked. "Your script is quite tame in that regard compared to what I was expecting."

"There's always re-writes, my darling," he warned, pulling her thong down her legs.

She lifted her hips to assist him, her eyes dark with lust as she watched him settle over her once more. Arching her eyebrow, she let out a long breath when he licked her slowly.

"I wanted your role to be more than just the hot love interest," he continued, reaching under her to fondle her bottom. "You're the all-powerful presence in the movie – the personification of the Sword of Damocles. As the Queen to Dionysius, you influence him without him even knowing it, and when Damocles takes over, you represent both his salvation and his downfall. You're not just in the movie to be a beautiful part of the scenery. The story doesn't work without you."

She smiled and hummed in pleasure. It was subtle what he was attempting. Female roles these days always seemed to vacillate between bitches who were all unapologetic and with an axe to grind, incapable of sentiment or trust, and weak showpieces present in a movie only to have sex on command and be rescued. He did the same thing with Rooney's character in _10 Days_ , giving her a depth and complicated range that went far beyond the mere label of 'girlfriend' or 'lover'. To know that he designed these characters for her, to showcase her talent, believing that she could handle such responsibility, was overwhelming. Giving her top billing wasn't new. Paul did the same for her on his films. Where Matthew differed was in how he chose to feature her. Rather than have her carry the movie and make her easy fodder for critics and haters, he gave her the opportunity to hold her own against actors as esteemed as Denzel and to stand out in every scene. It was the difference between making her seem as if she was demanding attention and allowing the audience to discover her more organically.

"I love you," he whispered, keeping her legs spread in his firm grip. "I love being with you every day. I love that it's my movie you're starring in, that you put your trust in me."

Her hand reached down and played with his hair, her hips bucking against his mouth. She could feel her heartbeat speeding up, her skin warming beneath his touch. It was incredible how well he knew her body, how easily he could get her worked up. "Mmm, I love you, darling. You're so good. You're so fucking good."

He smiled as she writhed beneath him, her body welcoming his lips and tongue, her soft cries growing ever louder.

"I want to hear you," he called, his fingers rubbing and stroking over her before thrusting inside.

"Matthew! Fuck! Yes!" she moaned, her head turning from side-to-side, both of her hands pressing his head closer to her centre.

He increased his pace, his tongue and fingers driving her mad. She forced her eyes open and watched him, her skin warming at the sight of not only his lurid attentions but how wantonly she was thrusting against him. She snarled and pleaded, the air filled with curses until finally he pressed down on her spot and she went flying.

He growled in triumph, wickedly making her shake before he eased her back to consciousness, her body going limp, her dark eyes staring at him in dazed rapture.

"Yes, it seems you're quite ready for tomorrow," he declared, sitting back up and smiling at her devilishly. He got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen to grab her a bottle of water.

She watched him go, eventually finding the strength to sit back up. Blushing deeply from the flush of release, she put her thong and shorts back on, a dirty thrill filling her mind at what they'd just done.

He came back over and handed her the bottle without a word, sitting back down and turning to his computer.

She took a grateful sip, looking over at him curiously. Was he not going to demand anything of her in return for being so accommodating of her needs?

Instead, he kept working, typing away as he made notes on another scene, or replied to an email. There were so many windows open on his screen that she couldn't tell what he was doing, exactly. His stress level had been high since they arrived, and even though the shoot was going smoothly, he was still on it every day, putting his best effort into even the most mundane of tasks. She watched him for a few moments, the concentration on his face evident. He would keep at it all night if left unchecked. He was always finding something else to deal with, another task that required his attention. As much as she wanted to attribute his relentless work ethic to professionalism and dedication, she knew there was something more. Whether it be his need to constantly earn Denzel's respect, or his ambition of making this film a hit for her sake, she couldn't help but think that this project meant more to him than anything else, that he would work himself to the bone to ensure its success.

His sacrifice impressed, scared, saddened and aroused her all at once.

"I'm going to go shower," she drawled, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "I feel like I need a nice, hot rinse."

He blinked as if roused from a trance and glanced at her.

She gave him her best sultry look and rose from the sofa, turning for the bedroom without looking back.

When she heard him close his laptop, she grinned and continued through to the ensuite, pulling her camisole over her head.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

Alex groaned, reluctantly waking up despite the warmth of the bed and his wife's body urging him to go back to sleep. He blinked several times, his vision filling with tousled blonde hair. Smiling, he leaned in and kissed Anna's shoulder, spooning against her and taking a deep breath.

"I don't want to go to work," he mumbled.

She laughed, her eyes remaining closed. "So don't."

"I have to," he whinged. "We're closing the Warner Bros. deal today and I have to be there."

"So go, then," she teased. "What's stopping you?"

He reached around her and massaged her stomach. "A few things."

She covered his hand with hers and snuggled back against him. "Well, it's up to you. I'm not moving anytime soon, so whether you stay or go makes no difference to me."

"Thanks, love," he snorted, spanking her lightly.

"Babes, I'm about ready to pop. You're getting nothing but brutal honesty from me at this point," she replied.

"You could just call it honesty," he noted, kissing her and pulling away. "The 'brutal' part is just redundant when it comes to you."

She smiled and relaxed beneath the duvet as he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. With her delivery date coming up, she found the last days of her pregnancy surprisingly calm. She wanted to get the twins out of her, of course, but a part of her didn't mind the wait. Even though Felicia was still kicking up a storm at all hours, the presence of the twins was a comfort. She had grown so used to the routine now that the extra weight was just something she dealt with, rather than a burden.

In the past weeks, they had gone to sleeping in a guest room on the ground floor so she didn't have to bother with stairs. Her days were spent moving between the bedroom, the kitchen, the pool and the living room sofa, a tablet always within reach so she could watch television or distract herself. The sweltering summer weather didn't bother her at all since she was already feeling constantly overheated. Sitting in the pool was a highlight, giving her a bit of relief from having to carry the entire weight of her children. She had stopped being able to swim months ago, but just lying back and floating a bit felt wonderful.

"Maybe I'll come home early," Alex suggested, coming back out of the bathroom. "As soon as the papers are signed, I'll just take off."

"If you like," she mumbled, still blissfully half-asleep. "You know where I'll be."

He laughed and went over to her side of the bed. "Have a good day."

"Mmm, love you," she muttered, puckering her lips and letting him close the distance between them. He kissed her and left to go change and get to work.

 **Condo Apartment, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

Green locked the door and walked briskly down the hall. Avoiding the elevator, he took the stairs, not wanting to get pulled into a chat with one of the neighbours. He had kept out of sight for the most part, only leaving the condo outside of rush hour when people were taking off to work, or coming back home. The agent had seen him when he first arrived, of course, but the beard, moustache, and coloured contact lenses were enough to throw her off.

He reached the parking lot and quickly got into the car, careful to keep his head down and his sunglasses on as he passed under the security cameras. The car was traceable, but that was a risk he had to take. Taking a cab to Anna's house would be dangerous, and using Uber would be even worse. If everything went according to plan, no one would see him come or go.

The drive over to the park was uneventful. He drove just below the speed limit and didn't look at any of the cars passing him. The area was deserted when he arrived, the early morning having not yet attracted any dog walkers, runners, or senior citizens. He changed quickly, keeping an eye out as he stashed his old clothes into the duffel bag and checked the mirror to make sure his tie was on straight. Satisfied with his look, he moved the car from one corner of the parking lot to another closer to the street. Getting into the backseat, he crouched down and waited, his eyes barely peering out above the edge of the window sill.

It took another half an hour before the Ferrari drove by. It went too fast for Green to catch the license plate, but the distinctive colour was enough. Alex had the top down, his immaculate close-cropped haircut easily holding up to the early morning breeze as he headed for the main street and his downtown office. Green smiled, his eyes following the expensive sports car before it disappeared from view.

Reaching for his phone, he started the timer and laid down, his eyes staring up at the cloth interior of the car, his hands folded across his chest. His breathing slowed as the minutes passed, his long frame hidden from view. To anyone who passed by, nothing at all seemed amiss. Just another car in the parking lot, as just another day began in the exclusive neighbourhood. No one had any inkling of the danger that lurked within.


	20. Chapter 20

**Previously:**

 **Condo Apartment, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

The drive over to the park was uneventful. He drove just below the speed limit and didn't look at any of the cars passing him. The area was deserted when he arrived, the early morning having not yet attracted any dog walkers, runners, or senior citizens. He changed quickly, keeping an eye out as he stashed his old clothes into the duffel bag and checked the mirror to make sure his tie was on straight. Satisfied with his look, he moved the car from one corner of the parking lot to another closer to the street. Getting into the backseat, he crouched down and waited, his eyes barely peering out above the edge of the window sill.

It took another half an hour before the Ferrari drove by. It went too fast for Green to catch the license plate, but the distinctive colour was enough. Alex had the top down, his immaculate close cropped haircut easily holding up to the early morning breeze as he headed for the main street and his downtown office. Green smiled, his eyes following the expensive sports car before it disappeared from view.

Reaching for his phone, he started the timer and laid down, his eyes staring up at the cloth interior of the car, his hands folded across his chest. His breathing slowed as the minutes passed, his long frame hidden from view. To anyone who passed by, nothing at all seemed amiss. Just another car in the parking lot, as just another day began in the exclusive neighbourhood.

 **Chapter 20:**

 **Office of Alexander Lewis, Commerce Court, Bay Street, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

"Mrs Chen! I need the latest versions of all the schedules to…" Alex called.

His assistant appeared before him and placed three piles of neatly stacked documents on the polished wood of his desk.

"…the agreement…" he finished, glancing up at her stern expression.

"Conference call is in one hour," she sniffed. "I need your corrections twenty minutes before."

"Twenty minutes? You're slowing down these days," he smirked, picking up one of the piles and flipping the pages, his pen poised at the ready.

"Take me only five minutes to make your changes. The other fifteen is for additional changes that you remember later," she retorted.

He glanced up at her with a wry frown.

She have him a smug nod and left his office.

"We've obviously been working together for too long," he mumbled, smiling and shaking his head as he went back to his revisions. "Well, soon she'll be rid of me for a few months at least."

A stupid grin remained on his face as he crossed out words, made comments in the margins and went through the stacks of papers. All of his life he was taught to work hard. His parents came from middle-class families and used school to get ahead. They met in university, where they both studied to become engineers. Education was always a priority in their home. He wasn't allowed to play sports, see his friends, even watch television, until all of his homework and chores were done. Often when he showed his parents that he was done the day's assignments, they would send him back to his room to do the next day's lessons in advance. Despite many protests and tantrums growing up, he learned well. No one outworked him, no matter the task.

Entertainment law appealed to him because of its mystery. It was rarely taught in law school, and even then only on an introductory level. He looked at it from a business perspective, rather than being fooled by the glitz and glamour. The gorgeous actors and brilliant directors all shared something in common – they couldn't do shit without money. Not a second of film could be shot without financing in place to make it all happen. There were plenty of investors around, particularly when he expanded his reach to Europe and Asia, and they also had something in common – they wanted to make a profit. The star power of an A-list actor, or the prestige of a big Hollywood studio quickly lost their lustre if millions of dollars were lost. Alex learned to see films as investment vehicles, and evaluated projects on whether they would give a good return on his clients' money, rather than whether they were 'good' or 'bad'. Certainly he had some clients who enjoyed going to the awards shows and saying they were part of a critically acclaimed film. Most, however, preferred the big gains he delivered, even if the movie was more worthy of a Razzie than an Oscar.

He still worked extremely hard, but the pending arrival of his children changed his perspective. Despite the whinging and veiled threats of his partners, he was planning to take at least six months for parental leave once the twins were born. He would never disconnect completely, but travelling would be cut down severely, his hours would be scaled back, and the definition of 'urgent' was going to be fundamentally changed.

It was a brave move for any lawyer, let alone the youngest equity partner in the firm. However, his leverage was substantial, being that his billings were astronomical, and his niche practice made him indispensable. If he quit, no one else at the firm could competently replace him, at least not right away, and they all knew it.

He turned to his computer and reviewed the latest emails to make sure there were no last minute changes from his client or the other side. The large monitor to his left displayed his email inbox. The screen to his right was filled with an image of him and Anna from their pregnancy photoshoot. She had objected to him using it as his desktop wallpaper, but he did anyway. The same photographer who did their engagement and wedding photos took the pictures, and even though Anna complained that she didn't want any reminders of how huge she was, in the end she had relented. He had a team of stylists pamper her and help her get ready, and the day had been surprisingly fun, the poses playful and spontaneous, the two of them laughing through most of them.

In this particular one, she was sitting on his lap, both of them cradling her bare belly. They were supposed to be looking down together, but instead they looked at each other. As the photographer reeled off a series of shots, she surprised him by leaning in and kissing him softly, and that was the moment captured here. He loved it for the fact that it showcased the love they shared, but also that she was the one to initiate it, to be confident and happy enough to allow it.

There was never any doubt for him that Anna would be a wonderful mother, and that starting a family would bring them closer together. He had no illusions about the challenges of raising children, particularly twins. The pregnancy had already required their constant attention and focus. Managing two wailing newborns would be as frustrating as it was joyful, but he was more than ready.

From the first moment he met Anna, he knew that she had a small insecurity problem, having to do with the way she was raised, her parents' divorce, and always being the shy and quiet girl who was overlooked and ignored. Even the things she did remarkably well, such as her work, were more about surviving each day than celebrating her triumph. Their problems getting pregnant and her miscarriage had devastated her, and the damage it did to their marriage still made him shudder. Once the twins arrived, she would have a new purpose to focus on, and he believed it would do a world of good for her and for them. They would grow closer from their shared experience as parents, even during the super annoying moments. He was absolutely certain of it.

Opening up an email, he focused back on his work. It was already mid-morning, and he planned on working through lunch. The hardest part would be herding all the lawyers, executives, representatives and agents together in the different countries to close the deal, but he was determined to get this done. The sooner he could finish up, the sooner he could get out of the office early and head back home to his wife.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

"Please, for the love of God," Anna cried, the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Just don't hurt my babies, please!"

Green smirked at her cowering form. He reached out and played with the tie of her robe, his fingers ghosting over the thin silk covering her swollen belly. "Don't worry. I won't do anything to your precious children. As long as you behave, everything will be just fine."

She shuddered at his touch, her lips quivering. Her eyes darted to the coffee table. The vials of chemicals sat there menacingly, and her look of terror aroused him even more. Her mind was clearly frazzled from his sudden appearance in her home, but it was clear his threats were well understood. If she didn't do exactly as he said, he would overpower her, knock her out, and give her a drug that would send her into early labour. Maybe she could try and endure whatever he had in store for her, defy him with her resolve. However, her unborn babies were her weakness. She would protect them at all costs, even if it meant surrendering herself to him.

"Now, take off your robe," he ordered.

She swallowed, the tears still falling as she undid the sash and dropped her robe to the floor. Being at home alone, and trying to be as comfortable as possible in the humid weather, she wasn't wearing a bra. He smiled widely when he saw her naked breasts for the first time.

"Well, they are even more spectacular than I remember," he chortled. "Pregnancy does have its benefits in your case."

He watched her closely, delighting in her fear, her helplessness. Stepping forward, he pressed his advantage, filling her vision, stopping her from looking past him. A sudden brainstorm came to him, and he grinned even more. Yes, of course. The perfect start in showing her who owned her now.

"On your knees, and don't even think about biting me," he growled.

His blood roared in his veins when she slowly lowered herself to the carpet.

* * *

The alarm went off and Green's eyes shot open. The interior of the borrowed car greeted him. He blinked several times to wake up fully, not moving until he was certain he was lucid.

Sitting up slowly, he glanced around. A few other cars were parked in the lot now, but no one was nearby. He opened the door and got out, breathing in the fresh morning air and stretching his muscles. A smile crossed his lips as he went around and got his backpack from the passenger seat. Closing and locking the car, he walked out of the park and headed down the street.

His greatest weapon was anonymity. No one knew him here, except for Anna, and she surely wasn't expecting him. When choosing how to blend in, he had to dress appropriately for his surroundings. Pretending to be a gardener, or a garbage man, or even a police officer, would be too conspicuous. Men in uniform stood out. Conversely, how many people in business attire wandered through this area every day? Whether they be neighbours walking towards the subway, people going to meet up with a carpool, even Mormons or Jehovah's Witnesses out going door-to-door, well-dressed men were normal here, and no one paid any attention to them.

The first stirring of arousal hit him when he turned on to her street. All of the houses here were huge and opulent, and many sat empty at this hour. Businessmen were gone to work. Retirees were away on vacation. Kids were still in school, and parents were out running errands. So far, everything was going to plan.

* * *

Anna closed the clasp of her bikini top and headed out of the bedroom, not bothering to check her appearance. She tended to avoid mirrors these days, even though she knew she was being silly. Dr. Ryder said she was in terrific shape at her last appointment, and Alex constantly was reassuring her in such adorable ways. Still, she felt so uncomfortable with all of her extra weight that all she wanted to do was stay in bed or lie down on the couch for the day. Relaxing in the pool was one of the few simple pleasures she could still manage, and in her present state, wearing as little as possible was a help. The summer weather had her putting on and removing layers constantly in a futile bid to find a decent body temperature.

Tying her hair up, she wandered into the kitchen and grabbed her tablet, her sunglasses and a glass of the green smoothie that Alex had made last night. Glancing out to the sunbathed backyard, she applied suntan lotion liberally, wincing at some of the more sensitive parts of her body, while smiling at others.

It was true that she was looking forward to getting her figure back after the babies were born. Her equilibrium felt a touch off, and not being as active as she used to be was frustrating. Still, she would miss some of her curves, she thought mischievously. It felt so vain, but she kind of liked having larger breasts, wider hips and a bigger butt. Sybil had confided in her that there were ways to keep a bit of her shape, and she knew it wasn't as if her body would snap back into its previous form the day after delivery. It was peculiar how her mind seemed to be playing tricks on her, swaying between being desperate to get the twins out of her one moment, and being content with her changed life the next. Looking ahead to the coming months with two newborns in the house, she shook her head in wonder at how Mum managed on her own back in the day. Between the cleaning lady, nanny, night nurse, food service and gardeners, she and Alex had a small army ready to assist them. She was already bracing herself for both Mum and her mother-in-law to regale her with tales of how 'when you and Alex were born, we didn't have things like…' for the rest of the summer.

Snapping the lotion bottle closed, she smirked as a warm wave passed through her. Her mood swings were legendary when she didn't get enough sleep, and last night she had struggled for hours to get comfortable. Sometime after midnight, she yelled at Alex for no good reason, browsed Netflix for a bit, took a bath, ate a bowl of ice cream, and woke him up to have sex at two in the morning. Her poor husband took it all in stride, he was so used to it.

Satisfied that she was sufficiently protected, she put her sunglasses on and stepped outside into the gorgeous sunshine. After setting out her tablet and phone on the patio table covered by the shade of the umbrella, she sipped her smoothie and went over to the pool. A pleased sigh left her lips as she set the glass down on the deck. Taking hold of the metal railing, she eased herself down the steps and into the cool water.

 **Crystal Ballroom, The Omni King Edward Hotel, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

"You, there," Denzel pointed at Matthew, giving him a toothy grin. "What is your name?"

Matthew blinked and looked around to make sure it was him that King Dionysius was addressing. "I am called Damocles, sir."

"Damocles," Denzel frowned pausing as if tasting the name on his tongue. He eventually turned his head and looked back at Mary standing behind him and elevated by the stage. "Do you know the name, my dear?"

Mary looked at Matthew with a dismissive glance. "He is not known to me, nor does he appear to be someone who would be known to me."

"Forgive the Queen, young Damocles. She is…tired…from hosting," Denzel smirked. "Now, come here." He waved Matthew forward.

Matthew took a tentative step, then another, before finally reaching the King's side and bowing his head respectfully. "Yes, sir?"

Denzel smiled and put his arm around Matthew's shoulders. He swept his other hand across the lavish ballroom full of guests dressed in all their finery. "Look about you, Damocles. These are the elite of the land – the rich, the powerful, the blessed. There is Lord Matteo, owner of vast lands. Here is Lady Colonna, owner of the largest fashion house in the realm. Everyone here is a dear guest invited for their achievement and status. Where do you stand amongst them, Damocles?"

Matthew swallowed and looked down at the floor. "I do not stand with them, sir. I have no lands, own no business, and have no status."

"A true self-made man, then," Denzel laughed, smiling back at Mary. She arched her eyebrow and did not share the King's mirth.

"You are in the best position to answer my query, Damocles," Denzel continued. "Who, among all of these esteemed guests, would you deem most fortunate, most blessed, most envied? Who of the kingdom's greats would you deem to be greatest?"

Matthew frowned and looked around the room nervously. "It is not for me to say, sir."

"He refuses to choose," Denzel exclaimed merrily, looking at Matthew carefully before turning back to Mary. "A cautious man, to be sure."

"Or one who is simply not used to our sort of people," she commented. "Send him away and find us some better entertainment. It shouldn't be difficult."

Matthew looked up at her in bewilderment. Frowning in determination, he turned back to the King. "If I must choose, sir, I would choose my King."

"I do not believe that I am among the candidates, young Damocles," Denzel laughed.

Matthew hesitated and looked over at Mary. She met his gaze and frowned.

"Perhaps my King is too humble to count himself among the greats," Matthew explained slowly, raising his voice, so all could hear, and looking around at the amused guests. "But who here can claim to rival the King's good fortune? You wield power and authority," he went on, looking up at Mary once more. "You are surrounded by magnificence. Surely you are the greatest of all?"

Mary frowned at his answer. Murmurs went through the crowd.

Denzel looked at him intently, his smile fading. "Do you wish to taste such fortune, Damocles?"

Matthew stared at him in surprise. "How would I ever have the opportunity, my King?"

Denzel's eyes narrowed. "How, indeed?"

The cast, extras, and crew all paused, allowing the last line to linger in the air.

"That's the one!" Matthew called, grinning and tapping fists with Denzel.

The extras began clapping and assistants and crew came forward to attend to everyone. Ivy brought Mary her bottle of water and the extras were ushered out of the ballroom to the staging areas to change out of their costumes. Matthew and Denzel headed over to the monitors to watch the playback.

"You like this angle here?" Denzel asked, pointing to a close-up of Mary's face.

Matthew nodded. "The audience is supposed to be taking this journey with Damocles, from poor commoner to King. They have the benefit of knowing more about the other characters than he does. This scene is at an elegant ball, but it's a bit like a fight. There are three different combatants circling each other, and so there's going to be quick cuts between each of them. Damocles sees how she looks at him and thinks she hates him. The audience knows that it's more that she doesn't like her husband, and is suspicious of his motives. Hopefully, the dialogue resonates with them. By focusing on each person when they speak, rather than just following Damocles and using voiceovers for the other characters, it gives more of a sense to the audience that they're in the ballroom witnessing what's happening."

"Watching the characters battle each other with words," Denzel smiled and nodded.

"Hopefully, that's what it seems like," Matthew shrugged, accepting a Cherry Coke from one of the crew.

"How does it look?" Mary asked, coming over and joining them.

"I like it," Denzel noted. "I like it a lot."

The veteran actor headed off to his dressing room, while Matthew had the technician rewind the scene so that Mary could see it in its entirety.

"You didn't tell me that you would be zoomed in that close," she remarked, smiling at him.

"I didn't want to affect your performance. By not knowing which camera was live, it allowed everyone to just focus on doing their best work," he explained.

She nodded, continuing to watch the scene unfold. It was impressive to her how, even in a rough cut, the tension among the characters in their expressions and dialogue was so palpable. Post-production was generally where the drama of a scene was fleshed out, with different cuts, angles, and music added to draw out the emotions. Here, though, just in the way Matthew had them stand relative to each other and the looks on their faces drove the mood home quite powerfully.

"I think this will work well, don't you?" he asked.

She smirked. "It'll do."

He glanced at her curiously. "You're a difficult actress to please."

She arched her eyebrow at him. "So I should hope."

She turned away and headed for the door, her dark red bandage gown hugging her curves. He went to great lengths to blend the older style dialogue and Medieval terminology with a modern aesthetic. Dionysius was the King, but he wore designer suits and carried an expensive cane made of carbon fibre with a lion head on the top that was supposed to look as though it was carved from ivory, but was really just plastic. Similarly, Astrid was the Queen, but she wore the latest fashions and was hardly the meek woman hiding behind her ruler. One benefit of keeping the visuals of the film modern was that Matthew got to see his wife looking gorgeous every day, rather than have to contend with corsets and huge period gowns.

"Do you have plans for lunch?" he asked, catching up to her before she reached the door.

"I could, depending on what my husband has planned," she teased. "He gets to see so little of me, you know, because of these long hours that the slave driver of a director forces upon us.

He smiled and shook his head. "Right this way. I know the perfect spot."

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

Green approached the house, careful to take a look around at the neighbouring homes without making it seem too obvious that he was taking a look around at the neighbouring homes. There was no one out and about anywhere – no postman, no gardeners, not even other cars driving by. He forced himself to keep his pace normal and easy, bypassing the path leading up to the front door and going over to the driveway instead.

The home had a security system, but he expected that Anna wouldn't activate it when she was home. He hadn't seen any cameras outside when he did his recon drives earlier, and as he turned and made his way up the driveway, he still didn't see anything mounted outside the house. The gate leading to the backyard was past the large three-car garage and at the back of the house. Using the building as cover, he made his way to the high fence, disappearing into the back of the large property and out of view from the street.

The first thing he heard was music, some classic rock playing in the yard. He smiled. His timing had been perfect. She was already outside and in the pool.

He paused at the gate. Taking out his phone, he checked one of his apps and smiled. Everything was going to plan. He retreated further into the back and waited.

The delivery person arrived within minutes, his journey tracked via GPS on Green's online food ordering app. The driver, an immigrant of some sort, probably from Sri Lanka or India, got out of a boring looking sedan and carried the pizzas to the front door. When the doorbell rang, Green heard the splash of Anna getting out of the pool. He didn't move until he heard the glass sliding door of the patio open and close.

Moving quickly, he jumped up and grabbed the top of the fence. Hoisting himself up, he quickly climbed over to the other side and dropped down to the perfectly manicured grass. Remembering the satellite photos of the property, he quickly found the shed in the back and crouched down behind it, a shrub keeping him well hidden while also giving him a perfect view of the pool. Breathing silently through his nose, he squatted low and watched for the return of his prey.

* * *

Anna placed her empty glass in the sink. She hated being disturbed when she was relaxing in the pool, especially when it was for something as ridiculous as a delivery man having the wrong address. The driver had sworn that he was at the right house, but she explained, in not exactly the most polite of tones, that she hadn't ordered anything. The food smelled wonderful, and it was already paid for, but she wasn't going to take it. The driver just shrugged and left after figuring out that he wasn't out any money for having not delivered the food to the right home.

Indian food reminded her of home, oddly enough. Mum loved Indian cooking, and growing up, Anna had butter chicken, naan bread and various other dishes at least a couple of times a month. Toronto and the surrounding area had a large Indian population and outstanding restaurants, but Alex didn't care for Indian food, so she hardly ever had it anymore.

She picked up her phone and debated giving her husband a call. Perhaps she could entice him to come home for lunch? Sighing, she decided against it and put her phone back down. Alex would probably come back if she asked him to, but she didn't like to bother him at work. Once the twins were born, he would be staying home for a while, so she felt it was important that he get as much done as he could now. His position at the firm wasn't anywhere close to being under threat, but in the business world, things could turn from amicable to cutthroat ridiculously fast. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that. No, best to leave him be.

Taking a deep breath, she went back outside, smiling as the sun welcomed her back. Determined to enjoy the rest of her day, she threw off her wrap and headed back to the pool, eager to relax in the soothing waters again.

* * *

Green stared hungrily as Anna finally came back outside. He could not have scripted her appearance any better if he tried. He licked his lips when she removed her wrap and headed over to the swimming pool.

Her bikini could hardly be called maternity wear. It was obviously a larger size, but the top revealed plenty of cleavage and when she turned her back to him, the bottoms revealed even more. He shook his head in disbelief. How could he ever have thought this bitch was an innocent prude? Her she was, nine months pregnant and still parading around half-naked like a slut.

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone, an evil smile lighting up his face as he pointed the camera at her and snapped away, the silent shutter ensuring he remained unnoticed from his hiding spot. His mouth watered when she bent over and splashed water on herself before slowly slipping into the pool. Her glistening skin set his pulse racing. He switched the camera to video mode and filmed her wading a few steps forward and sitting down on the steps. Patience, he reminded himself. She would be out here for at least another twenty minutes. There was no need to reveal himself yet. For now, he could sit back and enjoy the show.

 **St. James Park, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

Mary smiled and sat back against the bench, enjoying the warm sun. Matthew tossed their sandwich wrappers and empty bottles into the recycling bin before coming back and sitting down beside her.

"Well? How was your lunch?" he asked, sliding his arm across the back of the bench and just behind her shoulders.

"Not bad at all," she nodded. "I can't say I expected to be lunching _al fresco_ in the middle of the workday, but this is quite nice."

She leaned against him, observing the eclectic, but typically Toronto mix of people all around them. There were students out enjoying the weather, tourists strolling through the flower gardens and taking photos by the fountain, locals walking their dogs, and couples enjoying a quiet lunch, all amidst the lush trees and majestic presence of the Cathedral Church. It was rare that they were able to share an easy moment like this. The shooting schedule was demanding, made all the more harsh by Mary's planned absence next month.

"I wanted to run some lines for tomorrow's scenes if you have time," he suggested. "I can't seem to decide which way I want you to play it."

"I've struggled with that, myself," she confirmed. "I thought at first to be a bit soft and reserved. She wants to show him she isn't a total bitch. But, there's still a wariness to her where he is concerned, so she can't just be completely open with him yet."

"Exactly," he agreed. "I think we need to zero in on the moment that she goes back into her shell, sort of give the audience the hint that she might be coming around on him before we pull it back a touch."

She smiled. "Shall we head back?"

"If you're quite finished with your lunch break. I have to give you the full time, you know. Union rules," he smirked.

She laughed. "I was going to give Anna a call to see how she's holding up, but I can always reach her later."

They both took one last look around the serene park, a bit of an oasis in the middle of the bustling city with office towers and high-rise condo buildings all around it. Refreshed from their brief respite, she took his hand and stood up, intertwining her fingers with his and following him back to the hotel.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

In different circumstances, Green might have been content to just watch Anna for a while and not even bother approaching her. She had already given him an eyeful, the many photos of her in her bikini now safely stored to his Cloud drive for his future use. Some men would find a pregnant woman not at all arousing, and he generally didn't, but she was different, and their situation was so very unique that watching her here, alone at her home, set his imagination on fire.

It was precisely because Anna appeared so ordinary in her everyday life that he was fiercely attracted to her. Spending time with her on set and getting to know her better showed him there was so much more to the petite personal assistant. What started as a mission from Tony became an obsession. Part of him would not rest until he had her, ruined her for that punk of a husband of hers, got his revenge for the humiliation they dealt him in Paris.

He reached down and adjusted his trousers, his arousal growing uncomfortable in his crouched position. Checking the time, he continued to film her, the hour of reckoning soon approaching, much to his obscene glee.

Anna hummed pleasantly as she floated in the water. Her hands were balanced on the step below her, supporting her while the rest of her body swayed languidly. Growing up, having a pool was out of the question. Her family had neither the space nor the money for one. She went swimming at the local public pool when she could, but never very often.

When Alex first brought her to see this house, she was so overwhelmed by how huge it was that she didn't even have words when she saw the pool for the first time. All she could wonder was who was going to take care of it, just as she had no clue how she would ever clean a house this big. He laughed and told her they would hire help to handle all of that, which had only stunned her all the more. Anna Smith with servants? Now there was an idea.

After several years here, she couldn't imagine living without it. When the weather was decent, she went swimming a few times a week and even used the hot tub during the cold winter. The hot tub was out of the question due to her pregnancy, but she found she couldn't wait to get the twins in the water. Her first swimming lessons as a child came late, well after she already was in school. She hoped that her children would take to it far more quickly. A smile brightened her face when she thought about the two of them splashing and giggling, playing in the water as she and Alex swam with them. She couldn't quite picture what they would look like. They would probably start with lighter hair, maybe as blonde as hers, before drifting closer to their father's black over time. Would their eyes be blue? Brown? Something in between? She expected that they would look mixed, for some reason, the influence of Alex's Chinese genes evident in some way. She couldn't wait to meet them.

"Yeah, you'll both love swimming," she nodded, rubbing her belly. "You're going to be out here all the time. We'll have pool parties where you invite all your friends over and scream your little heads off and drive your Mum absolutely mental. 'Those loud Lewis kids were causing a ruckus again' the neighbours will say."

Kicking her legs a little once last time, she brought her feet down and stood up, holding on to the metal railing for support. She didn't know what time it was, but she probably should eat something and spend the rest of the day indoors. Too much sun wasn't good for her skin, and her time in the water had soothed her considerably.

She turned around to head out of the pool when her hand tightened around the railing and her entire body froze. Her eyes went wide, her breath catching. The twins kicked, almost as if they could sense her sudden change of mood from relaxed to absolute distress.

"Hello, Anna," Green smiled, looking like the Devil himself looming above her on the deck. "Lovely home you have here."

 **Office of Alexander Lewis, Commerce Court, Bay Street, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

"All right, next up is Schedule K dealing with translation of the trailer into multiple languages," Alex announced, scrolling down his computer screen to the proper page. "Why don't we start with the changes to the terms for the European countries and go from there."

He followed along as one of the lawyers on the video conference displayed on his other computer monitor began explaining what changes were being requested and showing the mark-up on the document on Alex's screen. The task had become tedious long ago, but they were making decent progress. He estimated that it would take another hour to wrap it all up. With any luck, he would be home by early afternoon.

A chat window was open on his screen for Anna. They would sometimes text back and forth during the day, and the messages were sent straight to his computer so he didn't have to check his phone all the time. He would sometimes complain to her in real time during his calls, the act of typing and staring at the screen making it seem as if he was hard at work to anyone else on the video conference. She usually admonished him for becoming distracted and would tell him to get back to work, but just reading a teasing reply from her would brighten his mood.

"For Germany, we want different voices instead of just subtitles," the lawyer droned on. "If we do the audio dub early enough, that shouldn't be a problem."

"That will tighten the schedule," a studio executive chimed in.

"Who is going to pay for that part of it?" another asked.

Alex glanced over at the various participants and nodded. "It's all in the budget, so that shouldn't be an issue. Scheduling is all tentative. If you don't have a movie to dub, there's no point thinking about the trailer. We can consider providing the scenes as they are edited. That way, when the trailer is cut, the dubs will already be done."

The others agreed, and added their own comments to explain why they were agreeing so it wouldn't seem as if it was entirely Alex's doing that got them to a consensus. He remained polite, and went flipping through various applications on his computer to find the additional language he wanted to include in the revised Schedule, any thought of texting his wife forgotten for the moment.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2019**

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Anna hissed, one arm covering her chest while the other shielded her stomach.

"Easy, Anna," Green smirked, towering over her. "Stress isn't good for the babies."

She swallowed tightly. "What do you want?"

"I want what you owe me," he sneered. "You remember, don't you? What we were about to do in my flat before your fucking husband interrupted us?"

Her pulse jumped at the mention of Alex. "Get the hell away from me! Alex will destroy you when he finds out that…"

His face darkened. "Don't you threaten me. Don't you even think about threatening me. Your punk husband isn't here, and you're hardly in a position to be telling me to do anything. If you know what's good for you, you'll shut the fuck up and only speak when I tell you to."

Her chest tightened, his scowl filling her with dread.

"Now," he continued, his voice cold. "You and I are going to have a nice visit, just the two of us."

She watched him closely, her mind spinning in panic. In her state, she could barely walk quickly, let alone run. He was taller, stronger, and quicker, and who knew what he was capable of? She still couldn't understand what he was doing here, how he had found her even.

"We both know that your neighbours are all gone during the day," he smirked, backing up and grabbing a nearby chair. He brought it over and placed it on the deck facing her. "Screaming will do you no good, at least, screaming for help, anyway."

His perverted smile made her shiver. The twins kicked again. She rubbed her stomach slowly, trying to soothe them.

"I brought a few things to show you," he declared, sitting down and putting his bag on his lap. He unzipped it and one-by-one, took out its contents.

"These are for later," he grinned, showing her the handcuffs. She gasped before he put them away.

"This is chloroform," he explained, bringing out a small bottle. "I'm sure you've heard of it. It's quite a powerful anaesthetic. I would prefer that you be awake, both for your sake and that of your babies, but if you try and resist me, well…"

The warning lingered in the air menacingly.

"This is Cytotec," he declared, taking out another bottle of pills. "Maybe your doctor has mentioned it, or maybe you've read up on it? Funny little thing. The generic name is Misoprostol. Doctors combine it with another drug – Mifepristone – to cause an abortion."

She barely held back her sobs. Her lips quivered and she tightened her grip on the railing to keep her upright.

"I don't have any Mifepristone," he said lightly, pretending to search through his bag. "Cytotec can be used to start labour, though. The application is quite simple, really."

She cringed slightly before steeling her expression. Of course, she knew what Cytotec was, and how it was administered.

"Seems the doctor just puts it up your vaj, and out pops a baby! Or, in your case, babies…" he chuckled.

"You're sick!" she spat, her fear turning to anger.

His face clouded over. "There you go speaking out of turn again," he scoffed, shaking his head. "I hope I've made myself clear. You're going to do everything I say, or you're in for a fucking world of pain. Don't just think about yourself, you fucking cock tease. Think about those precious babies of yours. We wouldn't want anything to happen to them, would we?"

She exhaled harshly. Scenarios and ideas flew through her mind but she dismissed all of them. The bastard was right. Who knew what he would do if he got his hands on her in a rage? She had to buy time, no matter how disgusting the prospect was.

"If it's money that you're after…" she tried.

He scoffed, glaring down at her. "You think I want your fucking money? I don't need your money, you stupid bitch! You came to my flat. You shake that tight little ass of yours in my face, and here you are strutting around in a bikini and you think I want money? Fuck!"

She trembled at his outburst. "Look, it's just better if you leave. Alex is coming home for lunch. When he gets here…"

"Bullshit!" he shouted at her. "He's at work and he's not coming back for hours yet."

She bit her bottom lip and said a silent apology to her husband. Alex's love had saved her more times than she could count. This was going to be a bridge too far, even for him, but if their children survived, that was all that mattered. She had to do everything in her power, even the most deplorable, to protect them.

"All right, I'm sorry," she apologized, looking up at him pleadingly. "Can we go inside?"

He shook his head. "Oh no. Who knows what you've got in there? Your alarm system could have a panic button. You could lock yourself in the bathroom. I'm not taking any chances in there. Out here will do just find. I like the way your skin shines in the sun."

She swallowed. The obvious answer was that if he handcuffed her before they went inside, she wouldn't be able to do anything, but she would not be the one to bring that up. He was probably so obsessed with binding her to the bed, as he was going to at his flat in London that he didn't think about tying her up beforehand. Getting inside would allow her to make a desperate play for her phone, lock herself in the pantry, anything. Out here she was defenceless, the tall fence and the trees all around the backyard ensured no one would be able to see what was going on. If she lost the use of her hands, though, she was done for.

"All right, we'll stay out here," she nodded. "Can I at least get out of the pool?"

"I kind of like you where you are," he laughed. "Turn around for me, slowly."

She shuddered but did as she was told, slowly turning, giving him the view that he clearly wanted. Buying such skimpy bikinis to wear during her pregnancy was supposed to be a gift for Alex, and she hated herself now for the situation it had put her in.

"You've put on weight in all the right places, Anna," he cooed. "Look at that arse. Fucking hell."

She almost retched at his words but rubbed her belly again. This was a rare time that she prayed the twins couldn't hear what was being said around them.

"Why me?" she asked when she turned around to face him. "You can get so many women who are much better looking. I mean, you dated Rachel when you were here. I'm really nothing special. I'm not worth all this trouble."

He chuckled and shook his head, leaning back in the chair and placing his bag on the ground next to him. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Anna. At first, I was interested in you for purely professional reasons. We spent more time together and I thought you were a cool chick, someone to hang out with, whatever. Like you said, I had Rachel to fuck, so I didn't really need anyone else at that time."

"Right, exactly," she nodded.

"See, the thing is," he smiled, leaning forward. "First, I thought it would be fun to seduce you, teach you a few things, show you what it's like to get fucked by a real man."

She bit back the retort that was begging to be unleashed. Just keep him talking, she repeated in her head.

"I think you're much more experienced than you let on, though," he mused. "The more I think about it, the more I think you're not just the simple girl next door, not at all."

She grit her teeth behind her pursed lips.

"No, I think you're a bit of a freaky girl, Anna," he stated. "I think you know much more about fucking and kinky shit than it appears."

"So that's why you're here?" she asked. "You flew all this way and broke into my home because you want some action?"

He laughed. "Not quite, but you're close. When you came to my flat that time, that's when I knew there was more to you than it appeared. I think about that night a lot, you know? What would have happened if we weren't interrupted? Where would we be today?"

Her legs felt weak and rubbery. As much as she hated Green, he was right about that. She had gone to him, drunk and not herself, wanting to forget all her miscarriage, her problems with Alex, forget all the horrible fuck ups she'd done. She hated admitting it, but she went there that night ready to have sex with him. By the time she discovered just how vile a man he was, it was already too late. He had her trapped in his bedroom, and if she had resisted, he would have forced himself upon her. But for Alex calling, she would have been raped that night. Her own stupidity and weakness put her in that position.

"I should never have gone to you," she whispered. "I'm married. I have a husband. If I led you on, that's my fault, and I…"

"Of course you led me on!" he snapped. "You came to my flat, wearing that short skirt and begging me for it. You lured me to Paris and set me up! After all the shit you put me through, you think you're going to just get rid of me just like that?"

She recoiled slightly, running out of things to say. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of it." Just hearing the words from her own mouth made her want to throw up.

"It's okay," he shrugged. "I forgive you. You're going to make it up to me, and we're going to be very good friends from now on, even closer than we were before."

The very idea of having him in her life at all made her angry. Yes, she had wrongly thought he was a friend, stupidly wondered what he would be like in bed, even flirted with him a bit, thinking it was all harmless. She knew very well now that he was a monster, and that no matter the mistakes she'd made before, she didn't deserve this.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, hoping that the opportunity to command her would have him lower his guard. She didn't know how she was going to get out of the pool and get past him, but she had to try something.

He smiled. "First, you're going to give me the best blowjob of your life. I want you to take off that bikini so I can see those nice big tits when you're on your knees. When you're done, I'll give you a special blessing, all over your face, and you can even rub it into your stomach a little bit, too. Think of it as a little secret between you and me. Oh, and I'm going to film it all."

She grimaced at his disgusting instructions. Do what you have to do to protect your babies, she told herself, though that did nothing to calm her down.

"Whatever you want," she said tightly. "Just don't hurt me."

"Oh, I'd never hurt you, Anna," he smiled sweetly. "No, I promise you are going to feel nothing but pleasure."

She bristled at his scandalous promise but remained quiet.

"Now, get over here, slowly," he nodded. "Get down on your knees and take your top off. Don't make me force you, Anna. Don't make me have to punish you."

She nodded. "I'll be good."

"Oh, I know you will be," he growled, leering at her. "Now get over here."

She tried to move as slowly as possible, delaying the inevitable if only for a few more seconds. The deck felt hot and rough beneath her feet when she finally got out of the pool. She reached him, and even though he was sitting down, his horrible presence seemed to fill the space all around her.

"Hang on," he smiled wickedly. "Let me give you a peek, first."

Tears fell down her cheeks. First, he brought out his phone and held it up, clearly recording a video of what was about to happen. Next, he unzipped his trousers and pushed them down his legs, along with his pants. He was hard and swollen.

"All for you," he declared, stroking himself slowly, keeping his phone camera on her. "Now, on your knees."

Not bothering to stop her tears, she sank down to the ground, her hand still covering her stomach. Sitting down to try and at least take the strain off her belly, she looked up at him, wondering how she would find the strength to get through this.

"Don't worry," he said softly, the smooth tone of his voice sounding strange to her ears. "You'll enjoy it."

She swallowed, her hands shaking as he reached forward and caressed her cheek.

"I like you a bit messier," he licked his lips. His fingers deftly pulled her hair tie free and her blonde locks fell down to her shoulders. Gooseflesh burst all across her skin as he arranged her hair the way he wanted, smoothing it away from her face.

"Now, Anna, look right in the camera, that's it," he called, his firm tone causing her to comply, though her stomach lurched. "Suck it. I want to get deep into that mouth of yours and down your throat."

Time seemed to stand still as she parted her lips.

He grinned triumphantly, his hips jerking as if his body was eagerly reaching out to defile her sweet, hot mouth.

"Toronto police! Get your hands up! Now!"

Anna stumbled backward at the sudden outburst. She looked up just as four police officers came running into the backyard, guns drawn and pointed at Green. They were upon him quickly before he even got his hands up fully. One kicked the chair he was sitting in, knocking him over and causing him to drop his phone. Another officer immediately tackled him and turned him on to his stomach. With his trousers and pants bunched around his ankles, he could do nothing more than squirm, his bare ass comically on display as handcuffs were slapped on his wrists behind his back.

"Alexander Green, you are under arrest for sexual assault, sexual harassment and trespassing," an officer declared, putting away his gun once the handcuffs were secured.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Lewis?" the fourth police officer, a woman, asked as she helped Anna get up to her feet. "I'm officer Joanne Costa. Did he hurt you at all?"

"You got here just in time," Anna mumbled. "Did my husband call you?"

"He did, ma'am, yes. He's on his way here now. We were closer, so we got here faster," Joanne nodded. "You were very brave to keep him talking."

Anna didn't reply, watching Green struggle.

They stood Green up with one policeman holding on to either side of him, keeping him immobile. Muttering something about 'putting that limp shit away' a third officer pulled up his trousers and covered him up.

"This way. Let's go," a policeman ordered gruffly, motioning towards the gate.

Green's eyes darted around furiously, his teeth bared, his hair dishevelled with stray grass and dirt. He finally found Anna, his eyes boring into hers, a snarl on his lips.

She kept his gaze. "We have cameras all over the house," she revealed, nodding towards the patio. "They're small, so you clearly didn't notice. Alex has a live feed at his office. He likes to keep an eye on me when I'm home alone. Sometimes when I'm out here, I like to give him a little show."

Green growled like a caged animal.

"By the way," Anna continued. "Alex is much bigger than you. He's on his way back here now. When he gets here, I think I'm going to get down on my knees and welcome him home properly, get myself a taste of a real man."

The police officers looked away, some of them smirking in amusement.

"Let's go," one said finally, and they marched Green out of the backyard to the waiting police cruisers.

Anna almost swooned. Joanne grabbed hold of her and helped her over to the patio table. She got her a bottle of water from the outdoor bar fridge and Anna took a grateful sip.

"I can take your statement now or down at the station, whichever one is easier for you," Joanne advised.

Anna cried fresh tears when Alex came running in through the gate. He reached her before she could stand up. Hugging her tight, he held her close as she sobbed against his shoulder.

"He…he…" Anna whimpered.

"Shh, it's all right, love," Alex whispered. "You got him. You got him."

 **Mount Sinai Hospital, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 24, 2019**

"Here you are, mummy," Mary smiled, handing the large cup to Anna and taking a seat at her bedside. "Prepared as ordered – beets, carrots, apples, strawberries, mango and acai berry. I made the poor boy behind the counter add extra everything."

"Mmm, thanks," Anna replied lazily, taking a long sip and putting it on the little table attached to the bed. She suddenly covered her mouth as a yawn left her lips. "Excuse me."

"No need to worry about that. I think you've earned the right to be rude for a little while after what you've been through," Mary laughed. "When I saw you hooked up to the pumps earlier, I thought it was some sort of torture device.

Anna laughed tiredly. "It's actually not too bad, and it's good that I'm producing without any problems. If it means I get to sleep more because there's bottles for the night nurse to use, all the better."

"They are absolutely adorable, I must say," Mary nodded. "Don't tell her I said so, but I can't see how Edith's son will be anywhere near as gorgeous as Peter and Felicia."

"Oh, don't say that!" Anna smiled. "They are sweethearts, though, even if they are literally draining the very life out of me."

"Just think of it as they're helping you lose your baby weight," Mary joked. "That's what Sybil told me. She loved pumping and everything because she just thought about getting her body back, and in your case, you're going twice as fast."

"I suppose that's right," Anna nodded. "So, how is everthing going on set?"

"It's going well," Mary acknowledged. "Ivy still makes far too many mistakes, but she's getting a bit better. I suppose I've been quite spoiled for so long that I need to learn to be more patient with her."

"I know it sounds horrid, but I like hearing that I'm not so easily replaced," Anna remarked.

Mary reached out and squeezed her hand. "Of course, you're not. You're my best friend. No one could replace you."

"Thank you," Anna answered, closing her eyes. ""And how's Matthew doing?"

"Don't tell him I said so, but he's actually a brilliant director. I don't know if it's because he's an actor himself so he knows how to relate to his cast better, but he always seems to come up with exactly what we need to hear when we need it. Denzel will ask him a question about a scene and he'll explain it in a way that just makes perfect sense, and off we go. It's quite remarkable to be a part of, really."

"Wow. You almost sound impressed," Anna joked.

"I'm pleased with the progress we've made so far," Mary smirked. "I can't encourage him any more than that. He's already incredibly smug as it is. Something about being back here agrees with him."

"I think it's probably getting to work with you that agrees with him," Anna noted.

Mary smiled. "All right, get some rest. I'll be right here."

"Mmm, are you sure? Why don't you go back home and you can come back later?" Anna mumbled.

"No, I'm fine. I'm just going to read lines for tomorrow's shoot," Mary explained. "Sweet dreams."

She settled back in her chair and took out her tablet from her bag. Bringing up her script on the screen, she read over the lines of dialogue for the scenes that Matthew intended to film the next day.

Anna fell asleep to the soothing tone of Mary reciting her lines in the sharp, well-bred accent that she had developed for Astrid.

* * *

"Does it feel real yet, Pop?" Matthew smiled, watching as Alex stared at his children through the window of the NICU.

"Definitely," Alex smiled, not taking his eyes off the sleeping babies. "And don't call me Pop."

"You got it, old man," Matthew chuckled. "Anna seems to be recovering well."

"She is," Alex nodded. "The thing about a C-section is she didn't actually feel anything when the babies were born, but obviously she's got a lot of aches and pains now."

"Do you have a date as to when you'll be able to take them all home?" Matthew asked.

"Four days?" Alex replied. "We both want to get the twins home as soon as possible, but it's kind of convenient being here, right? All the nurses, and everything is designed to make the mother and the babies comfortable. It's kind of nice."

"For now," Matthew acknowledged. "I don't know how many more nights you'll survive sleeping in that bed."

Alex chuckled and nodded.

"How are they doing, size-wise?" Matthew asked, looking over at his godchildren.

"They're good, healthy, Peter is a just a bit bigger than Felicia, which is cool. It's standard procedure when you deal with twins to keep them in the hospital for a bit, but everything went well and they haven't had any issues. We were lucky that they made it to full-term," Alex explained.

"You certainly were. I still can't get over how Anna was able to deal with…all that," Matthew stated.

Alex nodded. "She showed a lot more restraint than I would have. I just hate thinking about what would have happened if I wasn't paying attention to the camera, or if I had gone into a meeting or something."

Matthew nodded solemnly, watching his best friend take a deep breath.

"Anyway, all of that's behind us, for good. Green can rot in prison in England for all I care," Alex finished.

"Will Anna have to testify?" Matthew asked.

"Thankfully, no," Alex replied. "After his arrest, London police wanted to question him on some old cases they had. I always knew Green was a piece of shit, but apparently he's had incidents in the past where he's drugged and assaulted women. They could never trace any of it to him because the victims didn't remember anything. The asshole liked keeping souvenirs, though, so he's got plenty against him already without Anna having to be a part of it."

"Good," Matthew agreed.

"Anna told me that when it all happened, the twins started kicking, almost as if they could sense she was in danger," Alex recalled quietly. "Sounds crazy, right?"

"Crazy and quite wonderful," Matthew nodded. "Against the entire Lewis family, Green never stood a chance."

Alex looked over and shared a smile with Matthew before both of them went back to watching the twins sleeping peacefully.


	21. Chapter 21

**Previously:**

 **Mount Sinai Hospital, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 24, 2019**

Matthew nodded solemnly, watching his best friend take a deep breath.

"Anyway, all of that's behind us, for good. Green can rot in prison in England for all I care," Alex finished.

"Will Anna have to testify?" Matthew asked.

"Thankfully, no," Alex replied. "After his arrest, London police wanted to question him on some old cases they had. I always knew Green was a piece of shit, but apparently he's had incidents in the past where he's drugged and assaulted women. They could never trace any of it to him because the victims didn't remember anything. The asshole liked keeping souvenirs, though, so he's got plenty against him already without Anna having to be a part of it."

"Good," Matthew agreed.

"Anna told me that when it all happened, the twins started kicking, almost as if they could sense she was in danger," Alex recalled quietly. "Sounds crazy, right?"

"Crazy and quite wonderful," Matthew nodded. "Against the entire Lewis family, Green never stood a chance."

Alex looked over and shared a smile with Matthew before both of them went back to watching the twins sleeping peacefully.

 **Chapter 21:**

 **House of Gourmet Chinese Restaurant, Chinatown, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 5, 2019**

"Do you get hard when you're filming a sex scene?"

Matthew almost choked on his Coke. As it was he had to cough and pat his chest several times before he could catch his breath, his face turning red, both from absolute shock and embarrassment.

"Sybil!" he chastised her, glancing around the restaurant nervously.

"Oh, don't be stupid, darling. No one here is listening in," Sybil scoffed, giving him a wry frown as she reached for the Chinese broccoli. "So, do you?"

He glared at her and went back to eating his noodles. "We are going to go back to having our dinner and pretend that you never asked me that. I knew I should have brought Tom along."

"Right, because that would have stopped me from asking," she shrugged.

He rolled his eyes.

"Come on," she whinged. "I'm just curious, that's all. You and Mary are practically naked under the bed sheets and you're kissing, rubbing against each other. It would make sense if you did. It's a perfectly normal biological reaction. Trust me, I'm a doctor."

He huffed and grabbed a piece of sweet and sour pork with his chopsticks. "I'm not answering that."

"So you do, then," she beamed smugly.

"I didn't say that!" he protested.

"So you don't? Well, that must be awkward," she muttered, feigning concern.

He sighed tiredly and shook his head. "Why don't you ask your sister?"

"I did," she shrugged.

"You did?" he questioned in surprise.

"Mmm hmm," she nodded, chewing her vegetables.

"Well, what did she say?" he asked anxiously.

She smirked. "She said that you do, every time."

His mouth fell open. "How would she know that?"

She looked at him in disbelief.

He huffed. "Yes, obviously she would be able to tell, but I was referring to you asking her if she ever became aroused during our scenes."

"Oh, please, darling. I would never ask Mary if she became aroused during a sex scene," she frowned. "How rude would that be?"

He rolled his eyes and kept on eating.

"Is it different with Mary than with other actresses?" she asked after a short pause.

"Sybil!" he snapped.

"I'm just wondering," she replied defensively. "I think Rooney Mara looks great naked. I wouldn't be surprised if…"

"I did not get turned on during my love scenes with Rooney!" he shouted, a bit louder than he intended.

She gave him a cheeky smile.

He took a deep breath, checking again to see if any of the other patrons were even noticing this most bizarre conversation that he was having with his sister-in-law. "Rooney is a beautiful woman, yes, but we're just acting out a scene. It's all choreographed ahead of time, and you're focused on what you're supposed to do next, rather than the fact that you're pretending to have sex. Besides, we constantly stop and start to change the camera angle, touch up make-up, fix hair, whatever. It's not arousing at all."

"But with Mary?" she pressed. "What's the difference?"

"Mary's my wife," he answered pointedly. "As you so delicately put it, she's wearing very little clothing and we're in bed together. We're working, and we're professionals, but the fact remains that I'm holding the woman I love in my arms and kissing her. It's quite a different situation."

"That might be the most romantic thing I've ever heard," she teased.

"You're horrible, you know that?" he rubbed his face. "To think you were the sweet one growing up."

"I still am," she sniffed. "Fine. To be fair, you can ask me anything you like. No boundaries."

"That's precisely the problem with you, actually," he replied drily.

She frowned. "Darling, you were my older brother long before you became Mary's husband. We've always been able to talk about anything with each other, haven't we?"

He smiled and nodded, his annoyance lightening a little. "All right. Yes, I do…react…when I'm filming a love scene with Mary. I don't have much experience with other actresses, to be honest. With Rooney it was entirely professional. I'm sure it's rather common for actors to…respond…in those types of scenes, even when they may not have a history with the actress. As you say, it's a normal biological reaction. You just work through it, I expect."

"I wonder if I would be more offended if my co-star became aroused, or if he didn't," she mused, sipping her tea.

"I should think that's obvious. Knowing you, it would be both," he joked.

"Probably right," she laughed. "Anyway, that aside, everything seems to be going well. At yesterday's shoot it looked like you got through quite a lot."

"We did," he agreed. "It's been good so far. Everyone is focused and we're covering the material at a good clip. With Mary taking off for a week, we need to keep this up so that we're still on track when she comes back."

"It's a shame you can't go with her. I like seeing the two of you all glammed up on the red carpet," she remarked.

"It's fine," he replied. "We'll have plenty of premieres in the future. Besides, it's probably better that I'm not there. The French tend to monopolize all of her time."

"I noticed that," she smirked. "Why do you think that is?"

"It's not just them, I'm only joking," he stated. "Every studio wants the focus to be on the movie, and the actors are there to promote the film, not their personal relationships. It's rare that you see couples together on the red carpet, and even then it's usually just for a quick shot before the star of the film moves on. So, me being there isn't particularly important."

"There are people who will show up just to catch a glimpse of the two of you, though," she noted.

"Maybe. Anyway, I'm not going. She'll manage. Aren't you going with her to the London premiere?" he asked.

"I don't know. It depends on Edith," she admitted. "I'd love to, and so would Tom, but it wouldn't be fair to go over there to see her and the baby and just take off to a night of partying."

"Yes, it'll be a while before Edith and Bertie can do that, or whatever passes as their version of partying, anyway," he smiled.

"They have their own castle. I'm sure they throw the odd bash," she countered.

"Yes, Bertie strikes me as a real wild man," he smirked. "Anyway, if you do go, be prepared to not have much time with your sister. As I said, she tends to be ushered off this way and that at those things."

"Smile, laugh and look pretty – the actress' lot," she grumbled.

"We all are put on show at premieres, to a degree," he shrugged. "She's used to it. Besides, it's rather exciting. Her past French films haven't had as much support as this one, so it could really give her a nice bump."

"Would she consider going back to work there after she's done with your film?" she asked.

"Anything's possible," he allowed. "The goal, I think, is to get to a place where she has options from numerous studios and directors. She wants to be able to pick and choose her projects, rather than be forced to take something that may not be the best fit. Her past few years away were about re-establishing herself. Now that she has, she should continue to get other offers."

"They seem to like her in France, though," she commented, wrestling with a piece of fish.

"They do," he said tightly, reaching over and grabbing the fish with his chopsticks and putting it on her plate. "The director that she's worked with – Paul Chaput – he thinks she's the next big thing, apparently."

"Why do you suppose that is? I would have thought a French actress would be more sought after," she asked.

He bit back the answer that immediately came to mind. He didn't know how much Mary had shared with her sisters about being propositioned by Xavier, and he didn't particularly enjoy thinking about it himself.

"Everyone in this business is sort of eccentric," he replied carefully. "We all have our preferences when it comes to who we like to work with and so forth. I think the director and the studio people over there just like what Mary brings, whether it's her look, the accents she can pull off, her chemistry with other actors, whatever. They liked her from the start, and they'd rather keep working with her than break in somebody new, I suppose."

"Well, I guess you of all people can relate," she smiled. "Though obviously, they don't see her the way that you do."

He gave her a weak smile and reached for more food. "No, they don't."

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, July 7, 2019**

Anna has never been more tired in all her life.

She knew she would be tired, obviously. She was tired at the hospital, but that was different. Being in her private room, with nurses and staff constantly available to help her and Alex with the twins, and having everything within arm's length, it was easy for her to recover and rest, knowing that Peter and Felicia were always under watch. Her bathroom was literally steps away from her bed. She had daily massages. She didn't have to worry about cooking, cleaning, or doing anything other than healing from her C-section and nursing her babies. Besides, with the pain meds she was taking, she wasn't doing much of anything anyway.

She was glad to bring the twins home after a few days, but transitioning to being at home was a constant challenge.

Between the feedings, and the crying – both hers and theirs – and the changing, the swaddling, the rocking, the cooing, the singing, getting to rest, let alone sleep, was never easy. It was never going to be easy, but what she was feeling now was something else altogether.

She's always tired – exhausted – and moving about like a zombie. She shuffles around, hair tied up in a messy ponytail, wearing whatever is clean and feels comfortable, from yoga pants to pyjamas, only able to focus on one thought at a time. Even when she isn't with the twins, she thinks about them constantly. Are they doing all right? Are they gaining enough weight? Are they getting enough sleep?

In truth, she's so very lucky, and she knows that she is. First, to now have two healthy babies after all the months of trying, and her miscarriage, and the struggles in her marriage, is a miracle. Second, she has far more support than any other mother she knows. Her husband does all of the bathing, most of the diaper changes and puts them down to sleep a fair amount as well. Whenever he isn't, the nanny and the night nurse take over. She can't imagine what it would be like to deal with the twins on her own, and thankfully she doesn't have to. She's very lucky.

She just wishes she wasn't so tired.

Alex can fall asleep and wake up in seconds, and she hates him for it. He's the one who checks in on the night nurse for the twins' midnight feeding. When he comes back to bed, he gives her a quick kiss, spoons behind her and is out like a light. All she has to do is nudge him or call his name and he's right back up, ready to do whatever is required of him, whether it's to get her a glass of water or deal with the babies or just rub her back. He's some kind of superhero, or robot, or something.

For every hour of rest that she gets, she spends at least half of it trying to fall asleep, to the point that sometimes she just lies in bed counting the time until she has to get up again. She's healed enough that she doesn't have to take any painkillers anymore. She's lost plenty of weight, but still feels bloated and huge. Meanwhile, Mr Super Dad looks delectable. He wears shorts and tank-tops all day, works out and swims in the early morning while she's sleeping, and is annoyingly gorgeous. If it wasn't for the fact that Dr. Ryder said no sex for at least six weeks post-partum, she'd be all over him. Her sex drive is nonexistent, but that's more to do with her fatigue and insecurity about her looks than anything else. After her miscarriage, she was terrified that he would never want her again, but after all they've been through, he's the one thing she isn't unsure of anymore. As soon as she loses these last 10 pounds, he is getting so lucky.

That's for some time in the future, though. For now, she's trying to just survive each day.

Next week will be even worse. Mum is coming in on the Wednesday and Alex's parents on the Friday. The house is immaculate, thanks to the cleaning staff and gardeners, and Alex has put them in guest rooms at the other end of the house. Every possible detail has been attended to already, and yet still she worries. Will Mum take one look at her babies and make some negative comment about something she did or didn't do? These are her in-laws' only grandchildren. Alex's parents have always been so good to her, but will they judge the clothes she's picked out, or the toys, or the way the nursery is decorated? She knows she's being paranoid, but she can't help it. Giving her husband babies was fulfilling her duty as a wife, she thought, but now she realizes it's just the beginning. She's the mother of these two precious little wonders, and she can't screw this up.

She closed her eyes as tears began to come again, as they often did these days, often without warning. The mere thought of all the ways she could be a horrible mother would render her almost catatonic. Mum wasn't exactly a fantastic role model, and even for all her wealth and servants, Lady Grantham was hardly exceptional at raising Mary and her sisters. That's what scared Anna the most – that ultimately, parenting comes down to the person and that it's all up to her. She can't delegate parenting to Alex or pay her way to being a great mother. She can only face whatever each day brings and hope it works out. For someone who's very career is based on organizing and planning life weeks and months in advance, the utter helplessness of motherhood is a nightmare.

She's almost too tired to worry. Almost.

She sniffled a bit at the sound of her husband's footsteps in the hall. Pulling the duvet over her shoulders, she turned away before he came in and closed the door behind him.

"I just spoke to my Dad," he sighed, coming over and sliding into bed. "He's already talking about inviting all his friends over to see the twins."

She frowned, not turning over as he settled in behind her. "Well, it's understandable. These are his first grandchildren."

His hands slipped under her oversize t-shirt and began rubbing her back in ever widening circles. "I know, but I just don't want him to go crazy. We don't need all these people coming in here."

"Babes, it's not as if we don't have the space," she scoffed, arching slightly as his fingers worked their magic on her. "They can have drinks out on the back deck. The twins can go out there in the stroller, or just lie in the playpen. With the heat, they'll just sleep anyway."

"He'll want to carry them around and show them off," he grumbled, gradually working up to her shoulders and arms, deftly easing all the aches that have been building each day as her body tries to get back to its original shape.

"It's all right," she mumbled. "I'll talk to your Mom and set up an afternoon for them. He just wants to catch up with his mates, that's all. They haven't been back here in years, remember."

"He can plan his own reunion at a restaurant, or whatever," he whinged. "These are our children."

"And their grandchildren," she reminded him. "They do get certain privileges."

"I guess," he admitted grudgingly. He leaned over and kissed her neck. "You're sure it's okay?"

"Of course," she nodded, leaning back against him. "Mmm, that feels nice."

He smiled and sat up behind her, reaching around and rubbing her stomach for a moment before reaching across to the nightstand for the bottle of lotion.

She cringed. He's been giving her massages since they came home, but this seems a bit too intimate. She doesn't want him to touch her scars, or her stretch marks, or any part of her belly for that matter, but she's too tired to fight him.

Besides, he somehow knows how to make it feel damn good. The warmth of the lotion on her skin and the press of his hands soothes her. She sighs and turns her head a bit, enjoying the soft feel of the bedsheets and pillow as he attends to her.

"I'm glad you're here to help me handle my parents," he chuckled, lifting her shirt up higher to rub just below her breasts. "It's been so long since I've lived with them that I'm dreading being trapped in my own house."

"You're not off the hook. You have to deal with Mum," she laughed, keeping her eyes closed.

"She'll be fine. She loves me," he joked.

"Mmm hmm, she does," she agreed.

"So I spoke to Dr Ryder today," he mentioned, continuing his massage.

She opened her eyes immediately and turned her head to look up at him. "You did? Why?"

He gave her a calm smile. "I called to ask her how soon before you could come swimming."

She frowned. "Oh, not for a while yet. I would think I'd have to pass my six-week check-up first."

"Actually, she said you can go in now," he declared smugly. "No real swimming though, and the hot tub is out for now, too. She says your stitches should be fine for wading and just floating, but if you feel any numbness or pain, to get out."

"Hmm," she replied, looking away. She has missed the pool, along with every other activity that she used to do regularly.

"Do you want to give it a try tomorrow?" he asked, lying down behind her again. He rubbed her hip slowly. "I'll carry you. It'll be good."

"You can't carry me. I'm a whale," she huffed.

"You are not a whale," he drawled. He reached up and gently pulled at her chin, turning her head towards him so he could kiss her soundly.

"Babes," she whispered, trying to deter him.

"You are a beautiful, sexy, intelligent, incredible woman," he persisted, kissing her after each compliment. "I'll carry you. It'll be good."

She hummed against his lips, turning over slowly to face him. Even something as simple as rolling over in bed hurt like hell a week ago, but she's feeling much better now.

"I suppose if you carry me," she mumbled, snuggling against him and letting the warmth of his body wash over you. "I do miss the water."

She laughed as his lips moved to her neck and his hips moved against hers, his obvious arousal pressing against her thigh.

"Put that thing away, Mr Lewis," she giggled, incredulous at his ardour, but grateful still. "You're banned from all such activities, need I remind you?"

"I'm just showing you that it doesn't matter what shape you're in, love," he stated, kissing her lips again. "I can't wait until we can f…"

"I get it! I get it!" she laughed, hugging him close. "I can't wait, either."

He stopped and looked at her suspiciously. "Really?"

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, really. Is it so hard to believe?"

He blinked. "No, it's just I read that it takes a while for women to get back in the mood after giving birth, and I assumed that…"

She kissed him quickly. "Yeah, it can, from what I've been told. I guess that just means you'll have to make more of an effort to put me in the mood, won't you? Parading around in those tight shorts of yours like you've been doing is a good start, I will say. Can I expect more of that?"

He nodded eagerly. "Yeah. That's cool with me."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll bet it is. Now, can we try and get some sleep? The twins usually wake up in about twenty minutes."

He kissed her nose playfully before lying back down.

She cuddled against his side, a smile on her face as she drifted off.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, July 15, 2019**

"Lady Mary is waiting on video conference for you, your Ladyship."

"Thank you, Carson," Cora smiled, walking past the butler and into the parlour. She went over and took a seat on the vintage settee, making herself comfortable and taking a sip of tea before she pressed the tablet and Mary's face appeared on the large television.

"Hello, Mummy," Mary greeted her with a smile. "How is the new heir?"

"Hello, dear," Cora replied. "Oh, he's such a sweet thing. Edith is recovering well, also. I took the most beautiful photo of Kingsley with Emily yesterday."

"Sybil sent it to me," Mary acknowledged. "She seems quite taken with him."

"She is, and I'm glad. She'll be a big sister come next year, after all," Cora noted.

Mary smirked. "Yes, I know you're quite eager for Sybil to have another child."

"As are they," Cora retorted. "You know they've been trying again."

"I know, but I try and not remind myself, if I can help it," Mary stated.

Cora shook her head. "Oh, Edith wanted me to pass on her thanks for the presents. Kingsley's already wearing some of the clothes. She's going to try and ring you later tonight, she said."

"There's no hurry. I'm sure she's barely getting any sleep as it is. I'll be visiting soon enough," Mary shrugged. "How's Dad?"

"Over the moon, of course," Cora laughed. "I think he's a bit shocked that he has a boy in the family finally."

Mary rolled her eyes. "He'll be having him fitted for his parliament robes already, surely."

"If Mirada doesn't beat him to it," Cora smiled. "I think this will be very good for her, actually. Having a grandchild is a big change. It's been just her and Bertie for so long, and now she has someone to take care of a bit again. I expect it will soften her a little."

"Let's hope so, for Edith's sake, although I don't know if the world is ready for the softer side of Mirada Pelham," Mary joked.

Cora laughed. "And how are you? How is Matthew?"

"Fine," Mary nodded. "Busy, of course."

"Busy is good," Cora stated. "Sybil says the two of you are working very hard."

"There's an entire cast and crew who are also working very hard, Mum," Mary corrected her. "We're pushing through and making good progress. Even though the budget isn't overly tight, it would be good to finish on schedule, if we could."

"It's so very impressive that Matthew has been able to pull this off on his own," Cora nodded.

"He's not doing everything entirely on his own," Mary pointed out. "There's more to making a film than whoever finances it, you know."

"Of course, I know," Cora scoffed. "I'm sure you are grateful that he finds himself in this privileged position now. He's not nearly as beholden to a studio as you would be on your own."

"We're both lucky, yes," Mary replied curtly.

"Now when are you back?" Cora asked.

"I'm in Paris next week. I get in on Sunday night. There's press on Monday, the premiere is on Tuesday," Mary advised. "I expect to be in London by noon Wednesday. I should have enough time to visit in the evening."

"The premiere is here on the Thursday?" Cora asked.

"Yes," Mary confirmed. "Then on to Los Angeles for the weekend."

"Goodness, what a whirlwind," Cora shook her head. "We never had such schedules, certainly."

"It's a good thing, Mum," Mary nodded. "Three premieres in three major markets all in the same week. It's much better than the slow roll-out I had with the first two films."

"That's what Rosamund said. She's quite enthusiastic for you," Cora advised.

"All of our struggle is paying off, finally," Mary smiled. "We'll have a solid week where we have most of the spotlight. It's a slow week with no blockbusters releasing. This is a real opportunity."

"So I've been told. Well, I'm so very pleased for you, dear," Cora replied.

"Thank you, Mummy," Mary beamed. "Here, let me show you some photos of what I'll be wearing."

 **Townhouse of Xavier Rémy, Trocadéro, 16e arrondissement, Paris, France, July 18, 2019**

"How will this be different?" Xavier asked in French, sipping his wine and watching Jean-Paul carefully. "You've had two premieres in America for her last two films. Neither were particularly noteworthy. Nothing happened to convince her to forget Hollywood and commit herself to Paul moving forward."

Jean-Paul nodded and continued to cut into his steak. "This is entirely different. For one, I'm taking on more of an active role from the beginning."

"Mmm hmm," Xavier replied sceptically.

"Before, we released _The Muse_ and _Orlena_ in America almost as an afterthought. The premieres here in France were typical. There was a decent response, but nothing spectacular. Each of them was, more or less, just another Paul Chaput film, and the public reacted accordingly," Jean-Paul explained, taking a bite of steak.

Xavier watched him, waiting for him to continue.

"This time," Jean-Paul noted, taking a sip of wine. "We are rolling out _Duplicity_ in three different countries in the same week. There has been a developing buzz from the trailers and early reviews, an expectation. When we debut the film, there will already be an audience eager to see it, and the premieres will reflect that. It won't be just a typical screening. It will be an event."

Xavier nodded slowly. "And _Marie_ will notice this difference."

Jean-Paul smirked. "You have spent time with her now. You have seen her at work on set, at our parties, at premieres, and in Hollywood. You have seen how she is. There is a fire about her, no?"

Xavier smiled knowingly. "There most certainly is. A passion."

"A hunger," Jean-Paul clarified. "She needs, craves validation. Women like Mary are so used to getting what they want, when they experience rejection, it gnaws away at them. Her career is her obsession. All of her time and energy have been poured into it for years. She wants to be a star so very desperately."

"So, we make her feel like a star," Xavier surmised.

"We don't shower her with useless compliments. We show her what she can be with us. There will be crowds at the premieres calling her name. Her image will be on huge movie posters towering above everyone. The press and paparazzi will be all over her. She will be treated like a star, not just an actress," Jean-Paul nodded. "The premieres from before, they were fine, but there was nothing about them that felt special. This one will be different."

"And after each of these premieres, when she is high with excitement," Xavier suggested.

"She will come to our parties, where you will be waiting," Jean-Paul finished.

Xavier took a sip of his wine and savoured the flavour of the expensive vintage. He took a deep breath, his mind swirling with images of Jean-Paul's plans come to life. In the midst of his daydreams stood Mary, laughing and smiling, her eyes bright with anticipation of all that was in store for her. He grinned.

"Very good."

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 20, 2019**

"Matthew."

Matthew exhaled, keeping his eyes closed. "Mmm, yes, darling?" he mumbled.

"Are you going to miss me while I'm away next week?" Mary asked.

"Hmm? Yes, of course I will," he muttered, caressing her back while remaining comfortably asleep.

She frowned and lifted her head from his chest, looking down at him with cynical disapproval. This was her last night here before flying out to Paris tomorrow. They barely managed to have dinner after wrapping so late on set, and even then it was a quick bowl of pho at the restaurant around the corner before coming back to the apartment. A long hot bubble bath and languid lovemaking followed, and with how tired they were, they had fallen asleep quite quickly afterwards.

She was fully awake now, though, with the darkness of night outside their window. It was past midnight, dawn still hours away.

"Will it be strange for you to not have me around on set for the week, or to not have me be here each night when you come home?" she pressed.

He smacked his lips. "It'll be horrid, yes."

She arched her eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He didn't.

"I suppose you could try and convince me to return early, if it will be so dire for you with me away," she smirked.

"Go on and do what you need to do, my love," he mumbled. "I'll manage."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Ow! Mary!" he exclaimed, his eyes shooting open when she slapped his chest.

"Well, I see that I now have your full attention," she pouted.

"Entirely," he grumbled, frowning up at her. "What was that for?"

"For someone who is about to be separated from his wife for an entire week, you're taking it all remarkably well," she accused.

"What?" he sputtered.

"Nothing. It's fine. Go back to sleep," she scoffed, turning away from him and lying down.

He looked at her in consternation before glancing up at the ceiling and taking a deep breath.

"Darling, it's quite obvious that I'm going to miss you while you're away," he stated, sitting up and looking at her back. "You asked me, and I answered. What else is there?"

"It was the way that you answered," she spit out, tucking the duvet tighter around her.

"Would you prefer if I shed a few tears?" he grunted. "Need I remind you that it's you who is leaving me? In the middle of our shoot, no less."

She turned over and glared at him. "I have a premiere, Matthew. It's only my first world premiere ever in a lead role. It's somewhat important, wouldn't you say?"

"I would, which is why I am being supportive of you taking off to attend," he noted. "I fail to see how I've done anything wrong. I've been nothing but agreeable to whatever you've required."

"That's exactly the problem! You're entirely agreeable!" she complained.

He had to shake his head and scratch his ear to make sure he was hearing her correctly. "Well?"

"Well, what?" she demanded.

"Well, are you going to explain such a ridiculous comment?" he retorted. "What in the bloody hell are you talking about that my being agreeable is somehow a problem?"

She rolled her eyes and snarled in annoyance.

"We aren't always going to be working together, you know," she said, calming herself a bit. "It's not always going to be so convenient for us to be living together like a normal married couple and going to work each day and coming home at night."

He nodded slowly, a look of complete confusion still on his face. "Yes, and?"

"And so, how are we going to deal with being apart for long stretches at a time? How will we make this marriage work when one of us is off filming in another country while the other is back home, wherever home ends up being?" she questioned.

He blinked. "By being supportive of each other's careers and making time when we can. There are these remarkable devices called phones, you know."

"Be serious, Matthew!" she scolded him, shaking her head.

"I am completely serious," he shot back. "Mary, we've been apart for months at a time since before we were married. We've always made it work. I still have no idea how any of this has anything to do with my being agreeable, and how that is somehow a bad thing. I should think that being agreeable is important for a healthy marriage."

"Not when you agree to everything to the point that you don't even care!" she fired back bitterly.

His eyes widened. "You think that I don't care?"

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as a sudden wave of tears made her shake.

"I know that you care," she said quietly, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him with a much softer gaze. "And I know it's only a week, and that we'll talk, and text, and whatever. It's just that I feel as if this is a taste of what our life together will end up being from now on. We'll get a bit of time together here and there, but most months I'll be off filming somewhere, and you'll be somewhere else, or I'll be left at home in London with the children while you're here directing Rooney or some other gorgeous actress. It's not exactly the most ideal way to maintain a marriage, and you're so agreeable to it already that it makes me afraid that…"

He held up his hand to stop her, still completely perplexed. "Mary, you're blowing this entirely out of proportion. If it wasn't for the fact that we have a full shooting schedule, I'd be going with you for the entire week. It's just circumstance this one time, that's all. It doesn't mean that I'm happy that you're going to be gone, or that I don't care whether you're here with me or not. Of course, I'm not pleased about it, and of course, I wish things were different, but getting frustrated or angry about it doesn't do either of us any good, so why would I?"

"I suppose I just would like to know that my husband is going to miss me, that's all," she muttered.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. Fixing his gaze back upon her, he reached out and caressed her cheek. "Lady Mary Crawley, you can rest assured that your husband is going to miss you desperately. How could you possibly think that I couldn't? When you're here, I get to hold you naked in my arms each night. When you're not here, I have to sleep alone. The two are hardly comparable, I assure you."

She smirked. "I guess you'll just have to make do."

He scoffed at her smiling face. "Oh, I will, will I? And how will you make do without being able to sleep with me each night, exactly?"

She laughed as he leaned over her and kissed her neck. "Now, now, darling. You're the ravenous one of us two. I can go a week without you and not be reduced to doing any of _that_ to tide me over."

"Reduced?" he repeated, throwing the duvet off of her. "So now I'm pathetic, am I?"

"Perhaps pathetic is a bit too harsh a word," she smiled, running her hands up his back as he lifted her leg and tucked it across his hip.

"What would you do if I was to be disagreeable with you leaving, rather?" he asked, kissing her lips softly.

"If you were just being petulant, I would be quite annoyed," she replied, sliding her hands down to grasp his ass through his shorts.

"All right, no whinging, understood," he stated, his voice smooth and deep. "And if I was more adamant?"

She smiled and teased his mouth with her tongue. "A controlling husband is definitely not welcome. A husband who's open and honest about his feelings, who shows his wife exactly what he wants, well…that's different."

"I can't imagine you're one to be swayed by a man's opinion," he noted, kissing her intently.

"I'm not, but I can appreciate someone who is up front about his desires as much as the next girl," she answered.

"I hate that you're leaving," he growled, kissing his way along her shoulder and pulling the strap of her camisole down her arm.

"Do you?" she drawled, arching her back to let him pull the silk garment up and over her head. He tossed it to the floor, his eyes glowing in the moonlight.

"I hate when you aren't here. I hate not being able to see you," he went on, kissing a path down her front before teasing her breasts with his mouth and fingers.

"We'll talk, and text," she breathed, closing her eyes and taking hold of his shoulders, steadying herself against his wonderful attentions.

"It's not the same," he snapped, reaching down and pulling her panties down her legs. "I can't touch you over the phone."

He reached over and took hold of her hand, bringing it around to his front and pressing it against him. "And you can't touch me."

She hummed sultrily, taking hold of him when he removed his shorts. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest, his boldness thrilling her. Obviously his love and devotion were unquestionable, but her ego made her do silly things sometimes, and he did often beg to be teased. Other men would have chastised or rebuked her for these little tantrums of hers, just gone back to sleep and left her to stew in her own irrational thoughts. Matthew was so very different that way. He was so sure of himself, so comfortable in their relationship, that he allowed her these moments, knowing full well that by indulging her in a little row or two, it would all turn in his favour eventually.

It was irresistibly sexy how he was always up for it, never one to back down.

"You're going to miss me, aren't you?" he demanded, kissing his way back up to her neck as she stroked him faster.

"Yes," she moaned, spreading her legs at his firm push.

"You're going to miss this," he stated, shifting his hips against her hand.

"Yes," she hissed.

He captured her mouth in a fierce kiss, grabbing her arms and pinning them to her sides. She groaned into his mouth, arching her back when he settled between her thighs and thrust.

"Matthew!" she cried, his teeth pulling at her lower lip. "Yes!"

He buried his head in her hair, his warm breath washing over her skin. She raised her legs and he quickly hooked his arms around them, opening her up lewdly. She threw her head back and moaned, his every plunge driving deeper and deeper. With her arms and legs trapped, all she could do was writhe beneath him as he had his way.

He snarled and kissed her again, his tongue finding hers easily. She opened her eyes and saw nothing but hypnotic blue. She heard his harsh breaths combined with her own cries, felt his strong thrusts and the crushing release that loomed ever closer.

"Fuck!" she gasped when he finally let her breathe. "Fuck me! Yes!"

Her vision blurred and her eyes rolled as sheer heat crashed through her. Her legs shook and her pulse raced, her throat burning as she called out her release.

He pushed down on her and circled his hips, slowing his pace to draw out her bliss. She panted and moaned, delighting in his weight on top of her. Turning her head, she licked his neck, savouring the taste of his skin before kissing every part of him she could reach.

"More," she begged. "Give me more."

He laughed darkly and sat up, slowly easing out of her before taking her legs and turning her over on to her stomach.

She gulped in air, her legs too weak to even raise herself up. A shiver of anticipation ran down her back when she felt his hands on her hips, and his warm body loom over her from behind. Of course, he was far from finished with her.

"I love it when you're like this," he said, lying down on top of her and kissing her cheek. He reached out and covered her arms with his, stretching them out in front of her. She kept them there while he drew back. His fingers traced her shoulders and the lines of her back, ghosting past her breasts before settling again on her hips.

"Like what?" she teased, turning her head to look back at him. "Randy? Wanton?"

"Exactly," he chuckled, slowly sliding into her from behind.

"Do I please you, then?" she groaned as she took more and more of him until his hips slapped against her bottom. The sound was so depraved that it only aroused her even more.

"You do. Does this please you?" he asked, pulling back and giving her a hard thrust.

"It most certainly does," she babbled, her breath catching as he sped up. "Oh, fuck!"

He growled, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her body rocking beneath him. It was rare that he felt this uninhibited, even with her, but the truth was that the prospect of her leaving did make him furious. It wasn't so much the distance, or the fact he wouldn't be at her side. Those were normal realities of the careers they chose so long ago. It was the thought of her parading around with Jean-Paul, Paul, Xavier and everyone else, smiling and laughing while the cameras flashed all around them. Part of being an actor and a celebrity was selling this fantasy that you belonged to everyone, that these characters they played were a part of them, and that there was this link between the fans and the person on screen. Whether it was Empress Jade, or Lily the ingénue, Orlena the lover, or Estelle the adultress, Mary's appeal was in drawing the audience in, to make them think she and her character were one and the same. So the fans adored her, saw her as being the same as their idol on screen, and that they had some claim to her as a result.

She was his, not theirs, and the absurd thought that someone else might covet his wife enraged him.

He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, covering her once more while his hips took her over and over. She moaned and shouted and cursed, filling the room with scandalous words that seemed all the more addictive in her voice. She went over again and he kept thrusting, giving her no respite or mercy, chasing his own release.

"Yes, yes," she wailed, reaching up and circling his neck, drawing him to her. She kissed him sloppily, swallowing his fierce grunts.

"Do it," she chanted, tangling her fingers in hair. "Fucking take me!"

He shouted and lunged forward, pressing both of them into the mattress, his arms circling her and holding her tight.

She let out a long cry, her body tensing as she felt him shoot, a wicked warmth spreading through her.

They remained still for several long seconds, the blood rushing in their ears, their ragged gasps the only sound remaining in the air.

Eventually, he kissed her and drew back, rolling off of her on to his back. His hand lingered on her ass, not ready to let her go entirely just yet.

"I love you," he whispered, running his hand through his hair.

She turned her head and grinned at him, her body still shaking from their passion. "Love you, darling."

"Shall we go and clean up?" he suggested, fondling her bottom lazily.

"You'll have to carry me," she teased, arching her eyebrow at him. "Apparently, I'm rather too weak to walk."

"I can manage that," he smirked. "Though that raises all sorts of possibilities."

She laughed. "It seems I'm at your mercy, Matthew."

He chuckled and pulled her towards him.

 **Aéroport Paris-Charles de Gaulle, Paris, France, July 22, 2019**

Mary stepped out of the private jet and ran her hand through her hair, trying in vain to keep it in place with the wind swirling all around her. She smiled, her eyes covered by dark sunglasses as she came down the stairs and walked across the tarmac. The overnight flight from Toronto was usually too short to get any decent sleep, but flying in the private jet that Jean-Paul had sent over for her was far superior. She felt rested and eager, the sun shining down only helping her mood. Unlike previous projects, the debut of _Duplicity_ seemed full of promise. Jean-Paul had kept her constantly updated on the promotion campaign, sent her numerous positive reviews from critics and advised her of the ever increasing theatre numbers. This was going to be a major film played on over a thousand cinema screens worldwide. It was a stark improvement over how _The Muse_ and _Orlena_ were marketed. Jean-Paul taking more of an active role was having impressive results thus far.

Her heels clicked on the pavement as she approached a waiting limo. She smiled and greeted the driver in French before ducking into the vast interior. Taking a seat, she turned and traded cheek kisses with the handsome older man waiting for her.

" _Marie_ ," Xavier grinned. "Welcome back."

"Thank you, Xavier," she replied, easing back to a respectable distance. "I admit I was surprised when you said that you would be collecting me at the airport. Surely a Minister has far more important things to fill his day?"

He chuckled and patted her knee before pulling his hand back and reaching for a water bottle to hand over to her. "This is at the top of my priority list, _Marie_. I've told you many times. I believe that you have a bright future here in France. I intend to show you that this week."

She sipped her water and looked out the window as the limo wound its way out of the airport and towards the motorway. Leading up to this week, she had not thought very much about the future. Working on _Damocles_ with Matthew took up all of her time, and she was entirely focused on that. However, Xavier was right in that she was far more established here in France than she was anywhere else. Working with Paul had become comfortable and easy. She knew how to deal with his moods and demands, and the fact remained that she was wanted here. In France, she didn't need to chase after roles, or pitch herself to studio executives. There would be work for her so long as Paul saw her fitting into his plans.

She glanced over at Xavier. He was engrossed in his phone. The tall French politician was a part of the film culture here now. His alliance with Paul and Jean-Paul was a powerful card. Xavier's support meant that a great deal of the bureaucracy that plagued other projects would be avoided. His infatuation with her, or whatever he felt, was a complication, but he wouldn't be the first man involved in one of her films that wanted to have sex with her in real life. She put up with Henry and fought off his advances for years, and there were plenty of times where after filming a scene with an actor, be it Matthew, Vincent, Jimmy, or anyone else, that she could see and feel their eyes upon her harbouring less than honourable intentions. The fact remained that as an actress she needed powerful people on her side to get ahead. Xavier knew that she was a happily married woman, and that she had no interest in an affair. She told him that in no uncertain terms. Maintaining a professional relationship with him didn't mean she had to be rude. So long as he was on their side, he could keep whatever fantasies he had of her in private.

"I imagine you're a bit worn out from the flight," he noted, looking up from his phone. "Your suite at the Four Seasons is ready. I had the interviews pushed back to give you some time to change and freshen up."

"That's kind of you," she replied, arching her eyebrow. "Or, are you implying that I'm not presentable as I am?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Not at all. It's simply that I know what it's like to deal with a mob of media. Press scrums in politics can be battles. The more time you have to be ready, the better."

She nodded. "This all seems a different level from the previous films."

"It is," he agreed. "We're putting this film forward as representing the best of our industry, and you are the star of that effort."

"Will I do?" she questioned.

He smiled. "I have every confidence that you will be spectacular."

 **Casa Loma, Toronto, Canada, July 22, 2019**

"All right, that's lunch!" Matthew called, dismissing the cast and crew and heading back over to his director's chair.

The weather had decided not to cooperate this morning, the rain pouring down even now after starting early in the morning. The dreary skies combined with the humid air to make everything muggy and sticky. Moving production inside the stately castle in the middle of the city, they tried to make do, rearranging scenes and coping with losing the outdoor shoot originally scheduled for today.

"You've got some visitors coming through this week," his assistant stated, handing him a tablet.

He frowned and went over the itinerary on the screen. When he filmed _10 Days_ , there was barely any curiosity. People who wandered by the set were more annoyed that they were held up from crossing the street than excited to see he and Rooney. Now, with it being common knowledge that _Damocles_ was filming here, and with his higher profile, there was much more interest. Between studio executives, city officials, film school students, and so on, there were groups of people coming through every few days that he had to greet and share a few words with. It was another reminder that as a director and executive producer, he had to deal with far more details that had almost nothing to do with his film. Even considering his recent success, the business still ran on word-of-mouth, and the last thing he needed was some social media explosion about how rude Matthew Crawley was in real life. Making time for as many people as possible was a necessity.

"Who are these two?" he asked, pointing to two names scheduled for later in the week.

"They won a charity auction to come meet you and visit the set," the assistant answered.

"Right, now I remember," he shook his head. "Well, hopefully, they think it's worth it. What was the charity again?"

"The Cancer Society," the assistant informed him.

"Well, that's good," he nodded. "Just me, or Denzel also?"

"Denzel will be on set that day, so he'll be around. The prize was to meet you specifically, though."

"How disappointing for them. Well, let me know when they get here so I can say hello. Maybe arrange a tour or something?" he suggested.

"Will do."

He handed the tablet back and got up out of his chair. Going over to the window, he frowned at the drizzle outside, wondering how long the dark clouds would linger overhead.


	22. Chapter 22

**Previously:**

 **Casa Loma, Toronto, Canada, July 22, 2019**

He frowned and went over the itinerary on the screen. When he filmed _10 Days_ , there was barely any curiosity. People who wandered by the set were more annoyed that they were held up from crossing the street than excited to see he and Rooney. Now, with it being common knowledge that _Damocles_ was filming here, and with his higher profile, there was much more interest. Between studio executives, city officials, film school students, and so on, there were groups of people coming through every few days that he had to greet and share a few words with. It was another reminder that as a director and executive producer, he had to deal with far more details that had almost nothing to do with his film. Even considering his recent success, the business still ran on word-of-mouth, and the last thing he needed was some social media explosion about how rude Matthew Crawley was in real life. Making time for as many people as possible was a necessity.

"Who are these two?" he asked, pointing to two names scheduled for later in the week.

"They won a charity auction to come meet you and visit the set," the assistant answered.

"Right, now I remember," he shook his head. "Well, hopefully, they think it's worth it. What was the charity again?"

"The Cancer Society," the assistant informed him.

"Well, that's good," he nodded. "Well, let me know when they get here so I can say hello. Maybe arrange a tour or something?"

"Will do."

He handed the tablet back and got up out of his chair. Going over to the window, he frowned at the drizzle outside, wondering how long the dark clouds would linger overhead.

 **Chapter 22:**

 **Cinema UGC Normandie, 8e arrondissement, Paris, France, July 23, 2019**

"I'm so sorry, could you repeat that question?" Mary laughed, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. The reporter smiled and nodded as the raucous shouts of the fans all around them continued to drown out every word.

"I was saying, _Marie_ ," the reporter tried again. "All of these characters that you've played for Paul have been different, yes? Is there anything that links them together, do you think?"

Mary leaned in a bit to hear the question and nodded in understanding. Pausing to consider her answer, she smiled and waved at the crowd behind the barriers, which only made them scream louder.

"Well," Mary began in French. "They're all different women, certainly. I think what sets Estelle apart is that she's quite unapologetic, isn't she? She's having an affair, she's plotting against both her husband and her lover, she's got all these schemes going on, and she always puts herself first. It was quite a change from _Orlena_ because that was more about finding her way in life. Estelle knows what she wants and she goes after it. That was quite a lot of fun to play."

"Did that appeal to you? To play this strong female role? The movie is very much about her," the reporter continued.

Mary nodded. "Yes, I felt that there was a lot about the material that I could work with, and this is my third film with Paul, so I was comfortable with him. There was a lot about the role and the story that was quite shocking, and I liked that. I was allowed to push the envelope quite a bit with her, which is what you want – a challenge."

The fans roared anew as Mary's image was put up on the large video screens mounted around the entrance to the theatre. This was easily the largest red carpet she had ever done, and from the moment she stepped out of her limo earlier, she was stunned by the turnout of both fans and media.

"Were you able to relate to this character?" the reporter asked. "She's quite fierce."

Mary nodded. "I love her. She's great. I think every woman has a side where they don't want to be held to the standards and rules set by a man, and Estelle, for better or worse, refuses to do that."

"It seems that France loves you, _Marie_ ," the reporter smiled motioning to the large crowds around them before pointing the microphone back at her face.

Mary nodded and waved to the fans again before looking directly into the camera and showing a brilliant smile.

" _France, je t'adore!_ " she beamed, blowing a kiss before the staff ushered her on to another interview.

Xavier and Jean-Paul came forward shortly afterward, walking easily along the red carpet with no media or fans paying them any attention. As a government Minister, Xavier was well known amongst the reporters, but they simply assumed his presence was in support of a French film, and nothing more.

"See how she smiles?" Jean-Paul noted, nodding as he watched Mary signing autographs up ahead. "She's loving all of this."

Xavier's eyes wandered over the long sheer skirt flowing around Mary's legs and up to the red backless corset that framed her chest. The daring outfit drew attention to the porcelain skin of her bare shoulders and arms, her styled hair gathered away from her pale neck and fell down her back. She was easily the star of the evening, and looked the part.

"I've seen her smile before," Xavier commented, his eyes remaining on the actress. "That doesn't mean she is pledging her future to us."

"This is different," Jean-Paul remarked easily. "Look at this crowd. Listen to them. It's unlike any she's seen before. She is affected by it, trust me."

"How much did you have to pay these people to be here?" Xavier joked.

Jean-Paul laughed. "No comment."

The two men shared a knowing smile before applauding as Mary reached the end of the red carpet and posed for photos with Paul in front of the theatre. The flashbulbs of the paparazzi lit up the summer night sky.

 **Baldwin Street, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 23, 2019**

"Okay, my turn! My turn!"

Matthew smiled politely and turned his head towards yet another smartphone camera. Another giggling woman put her arms around him and grinned as her friend took the shot. Once it was confirmed that the photo was satisfactory, the woman gave him a squeeze and scampered off with her friends.

"Please tell me that's the last of them," he muttered, taking a sip of his Coke and turning back towards the set.

"No more until later on this afternoon," his assistant nodded.

"Crikey," he sighed, shaking his head.

They had accomplished very little actual work so far today. He was up before dawn to prepare for an appearance on a local talk show – one of those all-female affairs where he was grilled about everything from his upcoming Armani campaign, how great married life was, whether it was weird working with Denzel after having lost the Oscar to him, and a small bit on filming _Damocles_. From there it was on to a quick radio interview before heading to the filming location at a restaurant they had taken over for the day. He shot about an hour of footage before they had to break for lunch and welcome set visits from a studio executive and his family in the city on vacation, as well as some local newspaper contest winners that he had just found out about. After all that, being accosted by a group of art students from the college down the street didn't faze him at all.

"I know it's a bit of a bother, but it all helps keep your name out there," the assistant assured him. "Look, you're all over social media. All of these girls post their selfies with you right away."

He glanced over at his assistant's phone and shrugged. "I stopped looking at all that ages ago. My phone would be buzzing constantly with all the notifications, otherwise."

"You don't need to monitor it, but you do need to be aware," his assistant noted.

"I am aware, I do check it every so often," he admitted. "I just don't keep up with it in real time, rather, and so much the better. If I read some of the things written about me in the comments I'd think I was the world's greatest actor, or the worst."

"I don't know how many of them are commenting on your acting skills, to be honest, Matthew," the assistant joked.

"Haha," he deadpanned.

He took out his phone and glanced at the screen, frowning slightly before putting it back in his pocket.

"Something wrong?" the assistant asked.

"No, it's just that Mary's premiere is going on in Paris right now and I expected to hear from her," he muttered. "Anyway, she's probably busy with press or whatever."

"Are those things as glamorous as they appear on television?" the assistant asked.

"Not really," he replied. "It's just part of the show. A necessary part of the performance – trying to sell it to the public as a grand must-see event."

"I imagine the after parties are quite wild," the assistant smiled. "It's sort of like graduation, finally reaching the end of a long journey. They must do it up rather well."

"Yes, I suppose," he mumbled, sipping his Coke.

 **Private Residence, Trocadéro, Paris France, July 23, 2019**

Another cheer went up in the ballroom as another bottle of champagne was popped open and waiting glasses filled. The bass from the electronic dance music was filling the large room, bouncing off the walls and up to the ceiling. The mood was far more frenetic and joyful than usual at these private affairs. Everyone was still high from the attention and hype of the premiere, the official after party having been no more than a brief stop before arriving at this more exclusive get-together.

Mary laughed and clinked her glass with everyone at her table as they enjoyed a fresh toast. The sumptuous suede of the banquette was smooth and soft against her back. Aline sat to her left, laughing and whispering with Félix. Xavier was to her right, his arm stretched out behind her. Jean-Paul and others completed their table. Paul and his usual cadre of confidants were off in a corner enjoying expensive brandy and cigars. The air seemed more charged than normal, as those tonight was a true turning point, both for their collective as a filmmaking group, and for her personally.

"You aren't interested in playing cards tonight?" she asked, smiling at Xavier.

"Not yet," he answered casually, leaning closer to her. "I'm still savouring our triumph."

She laughed and nodded. "Tonight did go well, didn't it?"

"It was outstanding," he nodded. "And why wouldn't it be? You were brilliant, as always, _Marie_."

"You're very sweet," she replied, sipping her champagne.

"It wasn't only me who thought so," he chuckled. "You saw the crowds tonight. They were all shouting your name, no?"

She smiled at the memory. "It was rather exciting. They did seem quite appreciative."

"The French are not as aloof as the English," he stated. "We appreciate talent and beauty."

She arched her eyebrow and looked away for a moment. His compliments were entirely transparent, as were the intentions behind his stare, but she was at ease. There was something liberating about how open and direct Xavier was. They didn't need to pretend with each other about what each wanted to get out of this continued association with Paul and his films. There were plenty of women here who would have been far more receptive to the handsome older man's advances, and yet he ignored them all in favour of her. His interest did feed her ego, and on a night where all of France seemed to shower her with praise, it only made her more giddy.

"Is this the part where you tell me that I belong here?" she challenged, her eyes bright and playful.

"You already know where I stand on that subject, where we all do," he replied easily. "I don't need to convince you. I think you'll see it all for yourself."

"I am filming in North America now, though," she pointed out. "I may not return."

"We'll see," he nodded confidently. "There's plenty for you here, and I believe you know that."

She smiled and sipped her champagne, holding his confident gaze for a moment before looking away.

Aline laughed and nudged her in the side.

Mary looked over at her and the French actress turned her hand so Mary could see her phone screen.

"Matthew seems to be quite popular," Aline noted, smiling and nodding towards the display.

Mary looked over and saw a photo of Matthew being kissed on the cheek by some unknown woman. She took the phone from Aline and scrolled through the lengthy set of pictures. They were all selfies of Matthew with various women, all taken in Toronto today. He had been tagged in the shots, each of the women apparently rather eager to share their encounters with him on social media.

"Does he often get asked for photos?" Aline asked. "Women seem to like him."

Mary nodded slowly, thinking on the question. Matthew was quite popular now. A day didn't go by where someone didn't ask him for a photo, even if they were out at a restaurant or strolling around. She received her fair share of requests as well, but he had surpassed her recently. Aline's question reminded her that Matthew did seem to attract women everywhere he went.

"Yes, women do like him," Mary noted, handing the phone back to Aline.

Mary sipped her champagne, the photos still fresh in her mind. There were blondes, brunettes, the odd redhead, all of them smiling eagerly to be so close to her husband.

" _Marie_ , there's someone that I want you to meet," Jean-Paul called, getting up from his chair and extending his hand.

Félix and Aline both got up to allow Mary to rise. She nodded to Xavier before taking Jean-Paul's hand and going with him across the ballroom.

"Having fun?" Jean-Paul asked, smiling at her. "This is just the beginning, you know."

"We have a busy week ahead of us," Mary replied. "Tonight was a lot of fun, yes."

"London and Los Angeles will be even bigger," he nodded.

"That's rather ambitious," she smirked. "I think we should just be happy with tonight's turnout."

"Why?" he questioned, looking at her curiously. "Are you content to be popular in France? Your goals are far greater, aren't they?"

She nodded. "Yes, but I have a hard time envisioning the premieres in London and Los Angeles being bigger than tonight."

"Do you have so little faith in me?" he asked.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "No, but I am well aware of how these things work. This is hardly my first premiere."

"It's your first premiere where I am fully in charge," he corrected her. "And, as you can see, that makes all the difference."

She laughed and shook her head. "I can't argue with your success, though with just the one premiere, it could be attributed to beginner's luck."

He smiled and directed her over to the bar.

As they approached, a couple turned and smiled at them. Mary watched with interest as the woman stepped forward and kissed Jean-Paul on both cheeks. After they exchanged a few pleasantries in French, he motioned towards Mary.

"This is Julie," he introduced her. "She's a Vice-President at Dentsu in Japan. We've known each other since university."

"You had more hair back then, though," Julie laughed.

Mary smiled. "Pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming tonight."

"Of course," Julie smiled, reaching out and taking Mary's hands briefly. "We loved the film. You were wonderful."

Mary nodded in acknowledgment, intrigued at the connection between Jean-Paul and Julie. Dentsu was one of the largest advertising agencies in the world. Years ago, they had acquired the Aegis Group from Britain, and it seemed they had a hand in everything, from digital marketing through Facebook and other streams, to traditional campaigns, particularly in Asia. While the average consumer had no idea who they were, in industry circles they were a huge company, pulling the strings behind some of the most iconic brands in the world. Why Jean-Paul saw fit to specifically introduce Mary to his old friend was a mystery.

"Julie is always on the lookout for talent," Jean-Paul continued. "Her company dabbles in numerous ventures – product endorsements, commercials, brand marketing – if it's sold in China, Singapore or Japan, Julie probably did the advertising for it."

"That's impressive," Mary agreed.

"Asia is, even after all these years, an untapped market," Julie noted. "There's still a fascination with the West over there, and we try and fill that need for our clients and their target audience."

"At the moment, Julie is looking for a beautiful, aristocratic face to use on her next campaigns," Jean-Paul remarked, giving Mary a knowing smile.

Mary blinked, glancing from Jean-Paul to Julie.

"I love your look, _Marie_ ," Julie nodded. "As you know, _Paladin_ had a strong following in Asia, and our research shows that you still have a level of recognition with audiences there. With the proper synergies – cosmetics companies, fashion brands, that sort of thing, the companies that consumers would expect you to associate with – we believe you would do quite well."

"Goodness," Mary grinned. "I must say I didn't contemplate such an opportunity before."

"I'm surprised that your agent never explored the idea," Julie commented. "Though, to be fair, Asia is a difficult market for agents over here to gauge and assess correctly."

Mary nodded. Aunt Rosamund was hardly as well connected in that part of the world as others. Mary loved fashion and did work with major designers for her awards shows and public appearances, but she was never considered by anyone as an endorser. She simply assumed that her name wasn't big enough.

"Julie believes that if we were to develop your profile in Asia through releasing some of Paul's films there, it would set you up to do bigger things," Jean-Paul explained.

"The market over there is unique," Julie emphasized. "Successful Hollywood films often flop there, or aren't shown at all. There seems to be more of an appetite for European movies, so your association with Paul could serve you well."

"I see," Mary replied, considering the potential of what the two of them were proposing. While she knew _Shattered_ had been released worldwide, the response in Asia was tepid at best. Since then, she hadn't been part of a global release, until now, and more importantly, _Duplicity_ was all about her character. She was the lead. Julie's reasoning made sense. If Paul's films did well there, and she was the star, companies would see her as a link to the audience.

"Well, it was a delight meeting you. I've been a big fan for a while. Let's keep in touch, yes?" Julie gushed, kissing Mary on both cheeks before wishing her goodnight and taking her companion's arm.

Mary nodded and wished them a good evening. She couldn't stop smiling as she took Jean-Paul's arm and headed back to their table.

"Lady Mary Crawley for Dior Asia. It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Jean-Paul smiled.

Mary laughed. "It does, but I don't know how realistic that is, truly. I've never been considered for any advertising campaigns before."

"You heard Julie. Everything is possible, _Marie_ , so long as you understand where the possibilities lie and how to take advantage of them. Anyone can promise you this, or that. The difference is in who can deliver," he nodded, looking at her intently.

She nodded slowly, his advice still on her mind as she returned to their table and settled back in comfortably at Xavier's side.

 **Adamson BBQ Restaurant, Leaside, Toronto, Canada, July 24, 2019**

"I heard that the Paris premiere was a huge success," Alex noted, taking a bite of his pork ribs.

"It was," Matthew confirmed. "Mary said the crowd was in full voice, much to her shock."

"Perhaps a return to France isn't as unlikely as we once believed," Alex remarked.

Matthew frowned at him across the table, chewing his brisket and swallowing.

"I don't think anything is truly closed off," Matthew replied. "There was a time where perhaps it would have been unlikely for her to work with me again, and now look at us."

Alex smiled and nodded.

"It's nice to see that all of her effort has paid off finally," Matthew continued. "I don't know if it means she'll continue on with Paul and that lot, and she probably doesn't know yet either. For now, she's enjoying her success, and so she should."

"For the rest of the week, after which she needs to get back to work," Alex added.

Matthew smiled and reached for his Coke. "Obviously. She's my lead actress now."

Alex chuckled and went back to his ribs.

"So? How are the twins doing? Is Anna settled in?" Matthew asked.

"Everyone is good," Alex nodded. "She's got them into a decent routine now, and I think she's a lot more comfortable than in the beginning. It's only been a few weeks, but I get the sense that she's not as frantic as before when we first brought them home."

"And how have your parents and Anna's Mum been?" Matthew probed.

"They're fine," Alex shrugged. "They get their time with the kids, but they aren't hovering or anything like that. I think they spend more time going out in the city than they do at our place."

"That must be a relief. From what I heard about Anna's Mum, I thought you'd have your hands full," Matthew replied.

Alex shook his head. "People always get the wrong idea about grandparents. The thing is that the last time my parents or Anna's Mum took care of a baby was nearly 30 years ago. They're more than happy to play with the kids and be the fun grandparents or whatever, but it's not like they're raring to feed them or change diapers. It's nice to have them around, but they're just visiting."

"So you just have to rely upon your army of helpers," Matthew joked.

"As if you aren't going to have a staff of your own when the time comes," Alex retorted.

Matthew laughed and sipped his Coke. They went back to eating, the restaurant noisy and busy with customers lining up to order their barbecue from the counter.

"Can I ask you something?" Matthew began.

"You're going to ask me even if I say no, so go ahead," Alex shrugged.

Matthew gave him a wry frown before proceeding. "Since the twins were born, do you find that you see Anna differently? Has anything changed between you?"

Alex looked at him curiously. "What do you mean? Anna's my wife and the mother of my children. The two aren't mutually exclusive."

Matthew shook his head ruefully. "No, of course not."

"Why don't you ask me what you really want to ask me? One thing that has changed is that I do not have as much time to decipher your vague questions like I used to," Alex teased.

Matthew huffed before meeting his best friend's eyes. "I've just heard that having children changes a couple in so many ways. The idea of asking Tom makes me want to throw up, but I do wonder about it."

"If you're wondering if you'll still look at Mary the same way as you do now, I don't think anyone can answer that for you," Alex replied. "If you're worried that you'll only think of your wife as a mother from that point forward, I can tell you that's complete bullshit."

Matthew laughed and nodded.

"Having children changes you massively, obviously," Alex continued. "I don't think you can just go from being a married couple to being parents and assume that all the good parts of your marriage will remain the same and you can just pick them up again when you have the time. Everyone says you have to put your marriage first and work at it as you're raising your children and that's true, but you have to work at marriage even when you don't have children. Children are another responsibility that you have to balance when you're married. It isn't as if people who work all the time have better marriages than people who have kids, or whatever."

"But you're still willing to put in the work," Matthew noted.

Alex smiled. "That's the key. Your situation changes when you have children, but the way you feel doesn't change. It's like when you have children, you don't think about whether or not you're going to do what is necessary to raise them. There's no question that you're going to do it, it's just a matter of how. It's the same thing with marriage."

"You'll do whatever it takes to keep it strong," Matthew finished.

"Exactly," Alex nodded. "Make sense?"

"Yes," Matthew agreed. "Makes perfect sense."

 **Hexham House, Belgravia, London, England, July 25, 2019**

"You're a good boy, aren't you? Yes, you are. Such a lovely little chap, yes," Mary cooed, rocking her nephew back and forth gently. The baby sighed and closed his eyes, snuggling against Mary's shoulder.

Mary smiled and cradled him closer to her. She glanced over and arched her eyebrow at the perplexed expressions of Edith and Sybil.

"What?" Mary demanded, looking at them suspiciously. "Why are you looking at me like that."

"I've never seen a unicorn before," Sybil shook her head in awe.

"How did you…how are you doing that?" Edith asked, equally bewildered.

"How am I doing what?" Mary asked. "I'm just rocking him to sleep, that's all."

"Yes, but how are _you_ doing that?" Sybil asked.

"Why? Is it considered difficult?" Mary replied.

"For some, yes," Edith muttered, settling back against the sofa.

Mary rolled her eyes.

"Mum will never believe it unless we get a photo," Sybil exclaimed, taking out her phone.

Mary shook her head and continued singing softly to the baby, turning so that Sybil got a shot of his sleeping face, rather than of hers.

"Don't worry, I won't show this to Matthew," Sybil smiled, putting her phone away.

"What does it matter?" Mary asked. "It's not as though he thinks I have no maternal instincts."

"No, but he likely considers them to be quite dormant, as we all do," Edith chuckled.

"I'll consider that your baby brain talking," Mary frowned at her smiling sister. "It isn't as though we'll never have children. Of course, we will."

"And when do you suppose you'll get around to that?" Sybil questioned, sharing a knowing smirk with Edith.

"The trying, she means. We expect you've long mastered the practising," Edith giggled.

"Has she been like this since the delivery?" Mary asked Sybil. "She never had much of a filter to begin with, but honestly."

"Oh, we're just having a bit of fun, is all," Edith stated, getting up and taking Kingsley from Mary. "I'll just hand him off to Nanny so we can have a proper chat."

Sybil waved to the sleeping baby before Edith took him away to the nursery.

"She's right, you know," Sybil mentioned, turning back to Mary. "You know we all assumed that you career would always take precedence."

"You mean over Matthew as well," Mary replied, going over to the bar to pour each of them a glass of water. "But look at how that turned out. I didn't let my career stop me from marrying him."

"No, you wisely didn't," Sybil noted. "I expect that you correctly reasoned that you could continue with your career with him by your side, and that's worked out well. A baby is a different prospect altogether."

"Now you sound like Mum," Mary rolled her eyes. "You're back to work already."

"It's not the same," Sybil shrugged. "I love being back to work, and having someplace to go each day instead of staying home dealing with an infant. Still, everyday around 4 or 5 I get anxious to get home. It changes you, darling. Look at Edith. She has enough servants to fill every hour of every day, and she still spends more time with Kingsley than anyone else. She's not going back to work anytime soon."

"Anna's much the same," Mary added. "Though these are newborns we're talking about."

"So you think you'll be back at it within six months afterwards?" Sybil smirked.

"I don't expect to be a stay-at-home mum, if that's what you're asking," Mary answered. "However, I don't think it's an either-or proposition. Plenty of actresses manage to balance their careers with children."

"What does Matthew think?" Sybil asked. "Does he expect you to pull back a bit?"

"We haven't discussed it," Mary shrugged. "I can't believe that he would demand that I do so. He knows how important my work is to me."

"Yes, he does, but remember that Isobel stayed home for years after Matthew was born. She only went back to the hospital when he began school," Sybil pointed out.

Mary frowned. "That was an entirely different era, though. He wouldn't expect me to take four or five years off."

"He probably wouldn't, no," Sybil agreed. "However, it's not as if both of you need to work to earn a living. A baby changes your life. It may be that he thinks you shouldn't be so ambitious once you start your family."

"If he thinks so, then he can stop working," Mary spat.

"He could, yes, but it's not the same," Sybil smiled. "I know it sounds old-fashioned, but there's something special about the bond between a mother and her child. It can't be duplicated, even by the child's father."

Mary rolled her eyes.

"It's amazing, I tell you," Edith stated, coming back into the room shaking her head. "He drives me absolutely mad when he squirms and cries and won't sit still, but when he curls up and goes to sleep with that smile on his face, I just can't."

Mary smiled and handed Edith a glass of water. "He's precious, darling. So very well done."

 **Office of Joseph Molesley & Associates, Soho, London, England, July 25, 2019**

 _'It's another gala premiere in what has been a banner summer for the film industry. Tonight, loads of fans came out to support former Paladin star and British beauty, Lady Mary Crawley, in her latest film – Duplicity – for acclaimed French director, Paul Chaput.'_

Phyllis watched the television screen carefully. Being the main person responsible for Matthew with the agency, it was part of her responsibilities to keep current with what Mary was up to as well. Joe was his agent, but Phyllis did most of the work. She didn't mind. Matthew was great to work with, and the less Joe got in her way, the better.

She never envisioned she would be working at an agency. She was nothing more than a receptionist when Joe's father first hired her. Gradually, she learned the trade, and when she and Joe stared dating it was evident that her future would be tied to this place. The glamour and celebrity of the business didn't particularly move her. She liked the planning and strategy involved in managing the clients' careers, fighting for them and defending their interests. As a small shop, they were often looked down on by the much larger firms. That made Matthew's success all the sweeter. She didn't pretend that she and Joe were responsible for his meteoric rise. That was all his own hard work. However, she remembered the days when he went to audition after audition and never got a sniff. To have been with him all the way through was immensely rewarding.

 _'Lady Mary arrived wearing a stunning red dress by Dior haute couture that featured a plunging neckline and a daringly high leg slit. I must say that the actress, known more for her television starring turn, appeared every bit the movie star on this night.'_

Phyllis smirked wryly at the images of Mary posing on the red carpet. Matthew's wife certainly had the body to pull off such an outfit, but it was much different from what she normally wore to premieres. Ever since Lady Mary began working with Mr Chaput, Phyllis noticed that there was more of a provocative edge to both her work and her fashion. Whether it was the French influence or a natural change in her approach, the English actress was showing more skin both on and off-screen. It was debatable whether she had seen any appreciable benefit to this beyond more hits on social media, but there was no question that last night, all eyes were upon her.

 _'Duplicity, which opened in Paris earlier in the week, tells the tale of Estelle, played by Lady Mary, and her conniving ways – duping both her husband and lover in pursuit of riches. This is the second premiere this week, and once again, Lady Mary was not accompanied by her husband, Oscar-winning actor Matthew Crawley. The actor and director from Manchester was conspicuous by his absence, particularly since he and Lady Mary are currently filming a movie together in Toronto.'_

Phyllis frowned. While the media was rather preoccupied with Matthew and Mary as a couple, whether Matthew attended her premieres or not was hardly a topic worthy of discussion, or in this case, speculation.

 _'In her press tour this week, Lady Mary did not answer very many questions about her husband, choosing instead to focus on her movie. While this is not unusual for actors in her position, it is a change for a couple that has generally been quite visible since their marriage a short time ago.'_

"For God's sake," Phyllis grumbled, shaking her head. While she had never discussed any specific approach to the media with Matthew regarding his marriage, she expected that Lady Rosamund had specific instructions for Mary. It was a conundrum regardless of which approach they chose to take. Put themselves out there and some would accuse them of chasing after the spotlight, flaunting their relationship for personal gain. Remain private and guarded and suddenly entirely reasonable decisions such as one spouse staying in Toronto to work while the other went to Europe to meet her responsibilities became tabloid fodder. Mary and Matthew had managed well thus far, she thought. They were together at most events where people expected them to be seen together, and they were sufficiently happy and flirty during interviews and appearances. There was a fine line between giving fans and the entertainment press enough to swoon over without risking overexposure, and it seemed that this week anyway, they may have gotten it wrong.

"Phyllis, do we have the schedule for…ah, is that Mary's premiere?" Joe asked, coming out of his office and noticing the broadcast on the television.

"It is, from last night," Phyllis advised, checking to make sure she had recorded enough of the report for her files. "It seems Mary's movie is being very well received."

"That's nice," Joe nodded. "Good for her."

"Indeed," Phyllis said. "Quite good for her."

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, July 25, 2019**

Mary breathed out and accelerated, picking up her pace over the final few metres. Turning the bend, she sprinted past the park, the pavement clear of any pedestrians, children, or even dogs to get in her way. Pumping her arms, she raced for home, easing up when she crossed the imaginary finish line and coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs of her family home.

She sighed in relief, her hands on her hips, taking deep breaths and walking about to ease the burning in her legs. While London was always a mess of cars and people, the early afternoon was actually a decent time for a jog. With her sunglasses on and her earphones snugly secured, she did her usual circuit up to Green Park and back without being stopped or bothered. It was just the thing to both wake her up and clear her mind.

Last night had been something out of a dream. Past premieres in London had never lived up to her expectations, either due to Mabel's meddling or a lack of response from the public. Last night was so very different. From the moment she emerged from the limo, the paparazzi and fans were upon her, and it felt wonderful. She smiled and waved, gliding down the red carpet, taking time to answer any and all questions and pose countless ways. Jean-Paul had left plenty of time before the premiere for her arrival, and she basked in the attention, taking as long as he wanted to receive her plaudits.

By the time she posed for photos with Paul and the rest of the cast, her heartbeat was pumping and she never wanted the night to end. She didn't even pay much attention during the actual screening of the film. It was too intoxicating to be in a packed cinema, with everyone focused completely on her performance.

Meade nodded to her politely as she went into the house and straight upstairs. The official after-party and Jean-Paul's private party lasted almost until dawn, and she was still feeling delightfully buzzed, the adrenaline of her run only adding to her high. She hadn't actually drank that much. The laughing, gabbing, constant selfies, and dancing had been more than enough to put her in a brilliant mood. Aline had spent far too long trying to fit as many people into a photo as possible, which led to random strangers being pulled in. Mary had even tried her hand at poker with Xavier and some others, handling herself rather well, all things considered.

She smiled, coming into the bedroom and heading through to the ensuite. She removed her trainers and stripped off her clothes, admiring her flushed skin in the mirror. For some reason, she always felt sexy at the end of a run, even with her sweaty, dishevelled hair and pink cheeks. Whether it was the endorphins in her blood or seeing the results of all her years of dieting and exercise, she felt as though she never looked better.

Her hand trailed down past her breasts and across her flat stomach, a smile crossing her lips as she turned to examine her profile. She laughed and stuck out her bottom a bit. Though she hardly had the types of curves that many women flaunted these days, she was pleased with her figure. The reactions she got to her dress last night were testament that she had more than enough to draw attention.

Her phone lit up on the counter with an incoming call. Arching her eyebrow in surprise, she went over and picked it up. Smiling, she brought the phone to her ear and answered.

"Hello."

"Are you awake?" Xavier asked.

"Of course, I am. It's almost mid-afternoon," she laughed, shaking her head and looking at herself in the mirror.

"Well, I did keep you up rather late," he drawled.

"You and everyone else," she corrected him. "No one seemed to tire."

"That's what happens when everyone has a good time," he replied. "And what about you? Did you have a good time?"

She smirked. "What do you think?"

"I hope so. You were dancing quite a bit," he noted.

"Mainly because you wouldn't let me off the floor," she retorted.

She spent most of the evening dancing with Aline, the DJ keeping the dance music going as if they were in a nightclub. Past midnight, the beat slowed, and when Félix took Aline away, she found herself in the arms of Xavier.

"You were free to leave whenever you wished," he remarked. "I doubt that any man could keep the Lady Mary Crawley's interest against her will."

"And get us on the Minister of Culture's blacklist? That wouldn't be very smart," she teased.

"So you danced with me out of duty, did you?" he chuckled smoothly. "And here I thought that we were friends, _Marie_."

"We are friends," she allowed.

Dancing with Xavier was familiar to her by now, given how many parties and events they'd been at together. While he was nearly twenty years older than her, he was in excellent shape, and there was something enticing about his tall, solid body moving in rhythm with hers. His dark skin and sharp eyes seemed to exude confidence, the confidence that came from wielding power. She had to admit that it was addictive to have his interest, to know that a man of such authority and influence wanted her. Why wouldn't he? She was a star, a celebrity, a beautiful woman that men lusted for and women envied. Wasn't last night confirmation of that? The way that the press were so effusive in complimenting her dress and her performance? She had legions of admirers now, and he was one of them.

"That pleases me," he laughed. "Well, enjoy the rest of your day. I just wanted to check in to make sure you were recovered. I'll see you tonight."

"Until then," she signed off, putting the phone down and smiling at her reflection. They were all taking a private plane to America tonight, Los Angeles being the last stop on the whirlwind tour. She turned and headed for the shower, idly wondering if the parties to end the week would be even better than the others.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Toronto, Canada, July 26, 2019**

Matthew frowned and breathed hard through his nose. He bent down low into a more aerodynamic position and pedalled harder, pushing his bike up the slight incline and down the street. This ride was supposed to be a pleasant distraction. It was a balmy and sunny day, perfect for cycling, and he had a convenient three-hour break in the film schedule, just enough to time for a quick spin up to Alex and Anna's to see the twins and back down to set. A chance to stretch his legs, clear his mind, and get the blood flowing before what was likely to be a lengthy evening shoot.

Sadly, it was not working at all.

Mary had been gone for nearly a week now and though they had talked a couple of times and texted every day, he found himself in the pathetic situation of missing his wife. He was throwing himself into work, but there were constant reminders of her everywhere. It didn't help that the very script he was working from and the scenes he was shooting were part of a project starring her, but it wasn't just _Damocles_ that had her on his mind. The other night the crew went out for late night Chinese at Jade Garden, and the very name of the restaurant had him thinking of Mary in her full _Paladin_ garb. This morning in the elevator, someone got on at one of the lower floors wearing the exact same top that Mary wore when she went running. Even to get up to Alex and Anna's house, his route took him past bakeries and shops that Mary often frequented. It was quite ridiculous of him, and only made him more annoyed as he pounded out the kilometres.

Promotion was part of their job. The vast majority of actors worked on productions that didn't have nearly the attention that his or Mary's did. Premieres for most involved sitting in a half empty cinema and going out for drinks afterwards, toasting to being unemployed, rather than heading off to another city. This week was the culmination for Mary of years of struggle, and circumstance meant he couldn't be there. It wasn't as if he resented her for going.

And still a part of him was frustrated and annoyed. As irrational as it sounded, he wished that they could just be normal. He wished that there was a clear break between their work life and home life, that they could go out and do their jobs and disappear afterwards, without cameras, fans, social media and gossip websites deciding when they would be free. It wasn't as if they were nearly as popular as some couples, with personal bodyguards and unable to even go to the mall, but neither were they anonymous. Worse yet, they were still beholden to the studios, Mary more than him. That was why he was able to contain himself when he saw her posing in a scandalously revealing dress on the red carpet, or avoid giving her snide remarks when thinking about the after-parties she went to with Jean-Paul, Xavier and their ilk. It was what was demanded and expected of her, and a jealous husband was the last thing she needed.

Still, a part of him knew very well that she enjoyed the attention, and to try and rein her in was to try and change her fundamentally. He already learned from past experience that such an idea would only end in disaster.

Leaning over, he steered the bike into a turn and sped towards Alex's house, the wide residential street free of cars at this hour. Though he didn't want to admit it, there was a part of him that liked the way that Mary carried on. Even though to admit to something so juvenile made him roll his eyes, he liked that his wife was so adored, so ogled and leered over. When they went out in public and she took his arm or held his hand, he felt hilariously smug, and when he saw her in these memorable outfits, his mind filled with all sorts of devious plans. He loved Mary completely, which meant he loved this side of her as well, the temptress, the superstar. He really did not want her any other way, and as much as he berated himself for longing for her to come home, he didn't want to be one of those husbands who ended up so blasé about his wife's career and was fine with her being away for long periods of time. As desperate as it made him sound, he liked that he missed her.

Sprinting the final few hundred metres, he pulled into the driveway and brought his bike to a stop, unclipping his feet and swinging his leg over to stop himself from falling. The garage door opened as he got off the bike, and Alex came outside. Matthew removed his sunglasses and stared incredulously at his best friend.

Alex was wearing what could only be called a harness. It was a strange contraption that wrapped around his shoulders and back and somehow allowed him to carry Peter and Felicia wrapped up in bizarre looking fashion across his front. The twins were both asleep at the moment, their tiny faces pressed against his chest.

"You made it," Alex called, coming over to Matthew. "I saw you coming down the street."

Matthew slowly slapped hands twice with Alex and bumped fists, staring at the twins in confusion. "Yes, I made decent time. Uh, what the hell are you wearing?"

"It's a sling," Alex answered plainly. "It allows us to carry them around without having to hold them constantly."

"Yes, I can see that," Matthew noted.

"What?" Alex asked.

"Erm, nothing," Matthew replied, wheeling his bike towards the garage. "How's Anna?"

"Good. Everyone's out by the pool. You're just in time for lunch," Alex noted, leading the way inside the house.

 **California Suite, Four Seasons Hotel Los Angeles at Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, California, USA, July 27, 2019**

Ivy mumbled to herself as she scampered down the hallway and back to the hotel suite. This had been easily the most stressful week of her life. Travelling with Lady Mary to the film premieres in Paris, London and now Los Angeles was exciting to be certain, but she spent most of the time worrying herself sick that she may have forgotten something important, or worse, made a mistake.

Attending to Lady Mary was a strange job. In some ways, the English aristocrat was easy to deal with. When she was on set or rehearsing her lines she didn't need much of anything. As long as water and her phone was at the ready, she was decidedly low maintenance. Her focus on her craft was admirable. It was at other times, such as over the past week, that Ivy was pressed into duty. It was her job to know where Lady Mary needed to be and when, what she would be wearing, who she would be meeting with, what questions might be asked of her, where she should stand to make sure she received maximum visibility, and to have it all committed to memory so she could adapt at a moment's notice. On television, film premieres seemed fun and exciting, but in practice, it was a battle to get through them as smoothly as possible.

Lady Mary didn't yell, which Ivy appreciated. She did have a way of communicating her disappointment though, which was perhaps even worse. One perfect eyebrow arched in question and a cutting 'oh?' were enough to reduce anyone to ashes.

Ivy swiped the keycard and let herself into the suite, quickly heading into the living room and placing her burden on the coffee table. She looked over the items and made sure she had everything. With this being the last stop, everything had to be perfect. The week had gone well overall so far, and Lady Mary was in generally in very good spirits. If Ivy could make it back to Toronto with the week having been a success, it would be a crucial victory. During their travels, Ivy had met with numerous industry types and gotten her name out a bit. If Lady Mary's career continued on an upward track, she would be highly thought of herself, being her personal assistant. By the time Anna was ready to come back to work, Ivy would either make herself indispensable, or have her next job lined up with an even bigger star.

She went to the minibar and prepared a Bloody Mary, which was her boss' ironic drink of choice before major events. As she finished garnishing the drink, Lady Mary's phone lit up on the counter. When she was with her hair and makeup people, Lady Mary tended to leave her phone behind, not wanting the distraction. Checking the name, Ivy smiled and picked it up, bringing the phone and the drink into the master bedroom where Lady Mary was still getting ready.

"It's your husband," Ivy announced, coming over and handing Lady Mary the drink and her phone.

"Thank you," Mary replied, taking the phone first.

Ivy left the room with the rest of the staff to go and fetch Lady Mary's dress and shoes for the evening.

"Hello, darling," Mary smiled.

"I got your text. Are you getting ready?" Matthew asked.

"Just about finished," she replied. "I'm heading out in about an hour."

"Does that mean you're sitting there in your robe?" he teased, his voice smooth and low.

"I might be," she replied, smiling at where the conversation was clearly going.

"And what are you wearing underneath your robe?" he continued.

"You know how these things work, darling," she answered crisply. "My dress is quite form fitting, and it's backless so no bra and just a thong tonight."

He chuckled darkly. "What a wonderful image."

"Would you like one?" she asked.

"Aren't you surrounded by your glam team?" he questioned.

"They're all in the other room," she confirmed.

"Well, then," he said. "I'd love one, yes."

She grinned and held her phone up, opening the neck of her robe a bit to show him some skin before taking a selfie. She sent it on to him and put the phone back to her ear.

"There you are," she stated.

"You look gorgeous," he said eagerly. "Though I don't have quite the full view."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "You'll need to wait for me to get back before you get that, darling."

"I certainly hope so," he muttered.

"Oh, now, are you missing me, rather?" she asked.

"Rather desperately, yes," he mumbled.

"My poor darling," she pouted. "I would have thought work could occupy you well enough."

"Not nearly," he confessed. "We've been quite productive, to be fair, but even still."

"I'll be home in a few days' time. Don't worry," she promised.

"That's not soon enough," he complained. "Haven't you missed me?"

"Would I ever admit to that?" she joked.

"Not willingly, no," he grumbled.

She shook her head. "You know I miss you, darling. Did I not tell you quite explicitly how much I would miss you before I left?"

"Yes, I suppose you did," he replied, his tone growing ever more pleased. "Dare I hope for a demonstration on how much you missed me upon your return?"

She smiled wickedly. "You may rely upon it."

They both laughed knowingly.

"Speaking of great expectations, I expect that Jean-Paul is over the moon with this week's results. The reviews have been overwhelmingly positive," he noted. "Sybil told me that the crowd in London was quite boisterous as well."

"It has been quite the run we're on," she agreed. "We'll see how it translates at the box office, but he wanted this one to be on a larger scale than the others, and thus far there's been no comparison."

"And has Paul promised you even greater things on his next film, then?" he asked, trying to seem casual.

"Shockingly, they haven't mentioned anything specific," she shrugged. "I expect a pitch to be made at some point, but for now it appears that everyone is content to bask in the latest achievements."

"Fair enough. He has been rather prolific as of late," he remarked.

"He's almost been as busy as you," she teased. "Anna mentioned you were by to see the twins?"

"Yesterday. They're cute. She and Alex have settled into some semblance of a routine, though I think they rely on the nanny to give them breaks during the day. She's recovered quite well, I'd say. She looks to have gotten back in shape quite quickly."

"Breastfeeding will do that," she acknowledged. "Those two are literally sucking the life out of her."

"Be nice, now," he warned as she laughed merrily. "You'll love them when you meet them, I'm sure."

"Babies are babies," she scoffed. "They all look the same."

"You don't truly believe that," he chuckled. "I heard you were fawning over Kingsley."

She rolled her eyes. "Sybil really needs to learn to stop exaggerating."

"And what about Edith, then?" he challenged.

"Her, too," she replied, though warm smile filled her face at the memory of holding her tiny nephew.

Ivy came back into the bedroom just then, carrying a large box. She placed it down on the counter that they were using as a vanity.

"I've got to let you go now, darling," Mary said. "Duty calls. I'll text you later."

"I'll be here. Good luck. Love you," he answered.

"Love you, too," she said quickly before hanging up. Her eyes took in the box with surprised interest. "What's this?"

"Jean-Paul sent it over. It's for later this evening," Ivy explained.

"Later this evening? What do I need for later this evening?" Mary asked.

She lifted the box and pulled back the tissue paper to reveal an ornate black mask with red accents.

"Goodness," Mary exclaimed, lifting the mask from the box and holding it up.

"The theme for Jean-Paul's private party is Masquerade," Ivy advised.

"Apparently," Mary nodded, examining the decorated item. She brought it up to her eyes and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She imagined everyone at the party wearing similar costumes. While it would still be quite easy to tell who was who based on their size and voices, the masks would give an air of mystery to the entire affair.

She shivered with excitement.

"Lady Mary, we're ready for you," the stylist called, coming back into the bedroom.

Mary set the mask aside and turned, nodding in approval as they brought her dress and shoes in and spread them out on the bed.


	23. Chapter 23

**Previously:**

 **California Suite, Four Seasons Hotel Los Angeles at Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, California, USA, July 27, 2019**

"I've got to let you go now, darling," Mary said. "Duty calls. I'll text you later."

"I'll be here. Good luck. Love you," he answered.

"Love you, too," she said quickly before hanging up. Her eyes took in the box with surprised interest. "What's this?"

"Jean-Paul sent it over. It's for later this evening," Ivy explained.

"Later this evening? What do I need for later this evening?" Mary asked.

She lifted the box and pulled back the tissue paper to reveal an ornate black mask with red accents.

"Goodness," Mary exclaimed, lifting the mask from the box and holding it up.

"The theme for Jean-Paul's private party is Masquerade," Ivy advised.

"Apparently," Mary nodded, examining the decorated item. She brought it up to her eyes and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She imagined everyone at the party wearing similar costumes. While it would still be quite easy to tell who was who based on their size and voices, the masks would give an air of mystery to the entire affair.

She shivered with excitement.

"Lady Mary, we're ready for you," the stylist called, coming back into the bedroom.

Mary set the mask aside and turned, nodding in approval as they brought her dress and shoes in and spread them out on the bed.

 **Chapter 23:**

 **Royal Suite, Four Seasons Hotel Los Angeles at Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, California, July 27, 2019**

Xavier adjusted his tie and examined his reflection in the mirror. He smiled, pleased with the way his tuxedo fit his lanky frame. Turning his head from side to side, he looked over his beard, making sure it was finely shaved. A coarse layer of stubble was acceptable, but anything unruly was not. He wanted to appear manly, not barbaric.

When Jean-Paul told him that tonight would be memorable, he dismissed his friend's boast as mere hyperbole. Jean-Paul was a smart man, but he had a bit of a tendency for exaggeration. The Hollywood premiere for _Duplicity_ would be festive and exciting to be sure, but whether it would stand out from the fun of Paris and London, Xavier wasn't convinced. The movie was popular and well received, studio estimates had the opening weekend scheduled for next week forecasted at around $20 million in the United States, with another $20 million worldwide, an impressive opening take for what was a foreign film. On many levels, the decision to finance the marketing and logistics of a global debut week had paid off handsomely. However, lining the film up to pull in a lot of money was hardly enough to make tonight more memorable than merely pleasant.

Xavier became decidedly less sceptical when Jean-Paul told him about his plans for the private party.

A masquerade ball in a private home hidden away in the hills was an inspired choice. It was both similar to their get-togethers in Paris that Mary was so familiar with, but with a new twist. The need to change clothes also meant less time wasted at the official after-party. A few smiles, handshakes, and a toast or three and he was able to slip away, his limo carrying him and Mary back to the hotel to fetch their masks.

The short drive back was memorable already. When she sat down, her designer dress rode up and flashed her long legs, a deliberate and calculated move by her meant to appear innocent, but designed to disarm him further. They had laughed and talked, the high of the loud welcome she had received on the red carpet still in her veins. Her eyes were bright, her lips full, her smile wide. She was excited, and to see her like that made him eager for the night's festivities.

There had been little talk of business. He knew that she expected him to bring up the future, so he deliberately didn't press her so as to keep her off balance. Over the course of the week the seeds had been planted, even if she didn't realize it fully. The huge turnouts to all three premieres, the introduction to Julie and her opportunities in Asia, the mention here and there of Paul's next project and how it would be an even bigger production than the last. They were all hints of what awaited her if she returned to France and continued to align herself with him. She was intrigued by the possibilities, and tonight he would steer her even further to his side.

Dabbing on some cologne, he smirked at his image, the diamond tie clip and matching lapel pin just extravagant enough to draw attention, but not too much to appear tacky. His outfit was changed enough so that she wouldn't recognize him right away, but still familiar enough that she would feel comfortable around him, even with his mask on. She would be thrilled by the mood and mystery of the party, playful and flirty with him as she was before. He needed only be patient and all would fall into place.

He prided himself on being able to read people, women in particular. It was a vital skill in politics, figuring out what a person wanted and using that to his advantage. He never needed to use drugs or alcohol to seduce women. That was for idiots who only knew how to take what they desired, rather than earn it. He much preferred a more subtle approach, giving a woman a glimpse of what she could have with him, enticing her with her own heart's desire. Most of the time, it was the woman who ended up coming to him, making it seem as if it was her choice. To coerce a woman was admitting one's own weakness. To have her turn to him willingly was the ultimate triumph.

Lady Mary Crawley was no ordinary woman. He could easily see that from the very beginning. Money would never impress her, but wealth and power did. A handsome man would barely hold her attention, but a sophisticated man who was her equal, as intelligent and savvy as she was, could make her take notice. There was plenty about him that attracted her. The 30 million euros in film grants and tax breaks helped, but that only got him an introduction. She probably never imagined being with an older man, or a Frenchman, or a black man on top of that. It would have been easy for her to dismiss him once she got what she wanted, but he gave her enough reason to linger, to get to know him better, and she had.

They had grown closer with every meeting. She was friendly to him out of obligation at first, but over time, she opened up to him more, saw him less as a government official and more as a man, someone who had the upbringing, lifestyle and ambition to match her own. These qualities made him interesting, but hardly irresistible, and certainly not someone she would consider worthy enough of adultery. She was no longer suspicious of his motives, though. Indeed, he had been forthright with her from the start. She now believed she could keep him under control, allow him as close as she wanted before pushing him back to a safe distance. He was fine with her believing that. It was what allowed him to gain her trust.

Mary's husband was a successful actor in his own right. As far as Xavier knew, they were happy together. To lure her in, he needed to present her with an option far different from her Matthew. He wasn't looking to make her contemplate divorce, or anything so life-changing. Trying to compete directly against a man she loved was foolish. A woman like Mary believed she deserved the best of all things and that she was not to be confined by anyone else's rules. By presenting himself as an option, he was appealing to her ego and sense of entitlement. She was married, but was allowed to have admirers, or so she thought. He only needed her to get a bit too carried away with her teasing and games, until she found herself too far gone to turn back. Her pride and fear would take care of the rest, convince her that taking a lover was the privilege of the elite, and he would have his mistress.

Nodding to his reflection, he turned away and went back out into the living room, humming a tune on his way to the door.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 27, 2019**

Matthew woke up with a start. He blinked several times, cringing at the bitter taste in his mouth. He had fallen asleep at his desk again, the glare of his laptop screen staring back at him. Stretching his arms and groaning, he roused himself awake, glancing around to get his bearings.

He was going through another evening's lengthy list of tasks when the long hours of the day finally caught up with him. The call sheet for the tomorrow was finished and sent out, the latest batch of rough cuts had been reviewed, edited and set aside to be looked at later, and he had made notes on the next block of the script that was up for filming in the coming days. The script sat open on his screen now, together with a chat window from his call with Mary.

A smile crossed his lips as he remembered their brief talk. She had called him upon returning to her hotel from the after-party. There was barely any time before she was off to Jean-Paul's private party, but he was happy she had called anyway. She was bursting with how well the premiere had gone, regaling him with how big the crowds were and how all the major American entertainment shows had sent reporters to interview her on the red carpet. He was happy for her that it had gone so well, and just as pleased that she would soon be on her way home to him. After signing off, he decided to take a bit of a break and ended up falling asleep. Looking at the clock on his screen, it wasn't quite an hour later, but it was still past midnight. His night was over, while Mary's was just beginning.

He closed his laptop and rose from his chair, deciding he had done enough for the night. Shuffling down the hall towards the bedroom, he peeled off his clothes and wandered into the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he came back out, smiling to himself as he rolled into bed.

His nightly talks with Mary when she was away always left him mildly aroused. Seeing her so vibrant and eager made him even more anxious for her return. It also did not escape his notice that she was wearing a rather revealing gown, which only excited him more. He had long ago stopped worrying about what she wore in public. The entire world had already seen her wearing far less on screen. There was enough of her that she kept hidden just for him, and that was enough. If anything, seeing her looking so sexy only made him want her to get home even sooner.

Closing his eyes, he easily conjured the image of her in that dress once again. As the warmth of the duvet washed over him, he settled back against the pillow and fell into pleasant dreams. She was likely to be out all night since this was the last premiere of the tour, but he wasn't concerned. His wife was more than capable of having a good time while not letting things get out of hand. Soon she would be back in his arms where she belonged, and their lives could return to normal.

 **Private Residence, Hollywood Hills, Los Angeles, California, USA, July 27, 2019**

"This way, ladies. You can put on your masks before going out into the ballroom. Enjoy your evening."

Mary smiled in anticipation as she went through to a large parlour off the immense foyer. The party was already unlike any other she had been to before, and she had just gotten here. The arrivals were carefully coordinated so that no one saw anyone else before it was time to go in. Women and men were ushered to different sides of the house to maintain the air of mystery, and the staff were already wearing intricate black masks to reinforce the theme. With the large home shielded by trees and the bright lights of Los Angeles far below them, it felt like she was stepping into another world. She loved it already.

"Has Jean-Paul invited more guests than usual, do you think?" she asked, looking over at Aline.

"For sure," Aline nodded. "There are probably studio executives and other financiers from California here. Rich men looking to have some fun."

They both laughed as they made their way over to a large mirror where other guests were putting on and adjusting their masks.

"Who is that?" Mary asked, nodding towards an older woman who was standing a ways away from them. "She looks so familiar."

"Oh, that's Geneviève," Aline commented, looking over. "You probably remember her from her work in the 90's. She used to be a big star in France."

"Geneviève," Mary muttered, trying to place the name and face. "Right, right. I saw some of her films when I was in school. I always wondered what happened to her. It seems she sort of stopped making movies after a time."

"She used to work with Papa a lot," Aline recalled. "That's probably why she's here. She moved to the States a while back."

"What does she do now?" Mary asked, watching as the older woman put on a green and white mask. "Why hasn't she been in any of Paul's latest projects?"

"She quit a while ago," Aline shrugged. "I never worked with her, but Papa mentioned that she basically decided to stop when she made enough money to live comfortably. She never had any great ambitions, he said."

"That wouldn't sit well with him," Mary muttered, finally turning away from the older actress and looking at herself in the mirror.

"My ears are still ringing from the crowd tonight," Aline laughed. "Americans are so fearless! I think I heard a few marriage proposals shouted at you."

Mary grinned and nodded. "It was quite incredible, wasn't it?"

"Will it always be like this, do you think?" Aline asked. "Jean-Paul has outdone himself this week. I wonder what the next premiere will be like."

"Even bigger, with any luck," Mary laughed. "He's definitely surprised me. You know how he always makes promises, but this time, I dare say he's exceeded even his expectations."

"It's amazing what a difference Xavier's money makes," Aline shook her head in awe.

"I'd like to think that we had something to do with it," Mary replied. "But you're right. The marketing and promotion, even the press junkets were far beyond anything that I've done for one of Paul's films before, maybe even bigger than any of my other projects. I've seen larger crowds at Matthew's premieres, but one of those was a Marvel movie, so that's not really the same."

"Let's hope Xavier remains on our side, then," Aline nodded.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Mary smiled mischievously, applying a fresh coat of lipstick. "I've got that well in hand."

Aline laughed and clapped her hands. "You're hilarious! Well, Xavier adores you, that's true. But I don't know how long that will last. I mean, honestly, if he knows he can never have you, what are the chances that he'll keep coming back to us?"

Mary carefully drew the strap of her mask behind her head, pausing to look at herself and keeping it away from her face. "That's the point. He doesn't believe that he can't have me. As long as he thinks he has a chance, he'll stay around."

"Oh, _Marie_ , you are so bad!" Aline cackled. "He's a government Minister!"

"What does that matter?" Mary smirked, smoothing her hair . "He's a man. That's all that counts. Men are easily kept on the line. It's simply a matter of what bait to use."

Aline laughed and shook her head before putting her mask on. It was a dark blue with white streaks along one side and sparkling accents placed around the eyes. "Even so, he won't play your game forever. He'll get fed up eventually."

"I already rejected his proposition once, and he's still here," Mary replied confidently. "Why do you think that is? He obviously believes he can convince me to reconsider."

"Even he must have his limits," Aline noted. "Sooner or later, he'll need some encouragement to keep giving us his support, and the country's millions."

Mary placed the mask around her eyes, fitting it snugly across her face. It left her eyes, mouth, and the lower part of her face bare, covering just enough to make it difficult to tell who she was at first glance. The dark red decorations on the mask matched the colour of her dress. She thought that her outfit alone was captivating enough, but with the mask on, she looked like some mythological creature who men couldn't resist. On the red carpet tonight, she was a star, commanding everyone's attention. At this more intimate party, with her look now complete, she expected there would not be anyone else in the room capable of competing with her.

"Trust me, he'll have plenty of reason to keep going," Mary promised, admiring her reflection.

* * *

The towering ceiling of the ballroom drew Mary's attention as soon as she entered. Three giant crystal chandeliers hung down over the guests, their lights dimmed to throw shadows everywhere. The décor was decidedly dark and gothic, with large swaths of black and red fabric covering the walls, silver candelabras on the tables and even large red floral arrangements placed on pillars around the border of the room. Guests were moving about, just like at any of the other private parties she had been to since her first days in France. Some were gathered around tables chatting and laughing. Others were enjoying drinks at one of the three bars set up along the walls. Others still were dancing to the thrumming music provided by the small band. Everyone was wearing masks, from small, simple ones that merely veiled their eyes, to lavish creations that covered almost their entire heads. The scene moved her. It was as though she was at some decadent ball in Venice or an exclusive invitation-only affair from a bygone era. Her smile lit up her face.

"Come," Aline urged her, taking hold of her arm. "Jean-Paul told me that there are special drinks!"

Mary glanced over to one of the bars. Scenes from _Duplicity_ were playing on the walls, projected on to the fabric with a shimmering, translucent sheen. She laughed in delight when she saw her larger than life image raised above the crowd as though she was overlooking everyone and everything.

Taking Aline's hand, she walked briskly over to the bar. She looked around but couldn't recognize anyone. Feeling eyes upon her, she smiled and nodded to one of the bartenders.

"We're serving a very special brand of tequila tonight, or you can have absinthe," the bartender announced.

Mary shared a knowing smile with Aline.

"Absinthe, please," Aline ordered.

Mary watched in fascination as the bartender prepared their drinks, placing two crystal glasses before them and pouring a generous helping of alcohol. She smiled as he brought forth the sugar cubes and lit them on fire before dropping them into the green liquid. Staring at the burning flames, she blinked when the bartender poured water into her glass, the drink clouding over as the fire died.

"Santé!" Aline called, raising her glass.

Mary nodded in return and took a long sip, savouring the slightly bitter liquorice flavour and the rich taste. It reminded her immediately of being introduced to the drink at the private party in Nice when she was first starting out with Paul. The memory brought a smile to her lips and a pleasant jump to her pulse. She took another sip and looked around the room, wondering what other delights were in store tonight.

"Tequila."

She watched as the bartender brought out an ornate glass bottle and poured a shot. He slid it across the marble countertop and a large gloved hand reached out and picked it up. Turning her head, she looked up at a tall black man wearing a mask covering most of his face. The mask was black and gold and seemed to reflect the coloured lights flashing around them. He glanced over at her, his eyes darkened by the mask. Raising the glass to her, he downed the shot in one go and passed it back to the bartender.

Mary smiled, looking down for a moment. The man was the same height and build as Xavier, but she couldn't quite be sure. He was wearing a different tuxedo from what the French Minister had worn to the premiere, and the mask made it difficult for her to make out any of this features.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked.

She looked up and nodded. The voice was heavy and deep, not exactly the same as Xavier's, but not entirely different either. "I am. And you?"

"I am now," he smiled.

"Do I know you?" she challenged, trying to get a glimpse of the colour of his eyes.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he laughed.

She laughed along with him, reaching for her drink once more to distract herself. Normally she wanted to be seen, for everyone to be aware when Lady Mary Crawley entered a room. The disguise of the mask was strangely addictive. She could be anyone. Do anything. No one would know.

"Perhaps you do," she teased, sipping her drink.

"I guess there's only one way to find out – we must spend more time together," he declared, holding his hand out to her. "Dance?"

She looked at his extended hand, mulling over his offer. If he really was Xavier, she would have danced with him without question. If he wasn't, it was just one dance, and the ballroom was full of people. It wasn't as if she was at risk dancing with a stranger. She looked up at his eyes and his warm smile. A part of her was annoyed that she couldn't tell if her would-be partner was Xavier or not. Placing her smaller hand in his, she nodded.

"Why not?" she replied haughtily.

He smiled and smoothly brought her out to the dance floor. The band started up a playful waltz and he took her into hold. His gloves on her body made it hard for her to tell if it was Xavier's touch or not, and she found herself shivering as they started to dance.

"Have you figured it out yet?" he asked, his warm breath caressing her cheek as he leaned in.

She smiled, turning towards his ear and avoiding his eyes. "Who you are? I have some idea. What about you?"

"I believe I have it figured out," he replied.

"Do you?" she questioned. "And who am I?"

"You're a beautiful woman, someone who commands attention, someone that everyone wants," he answered.

She laughed freely as he guided her across the floor with confident strides. "And what is my name, then?"

"I don't know," he stated easily. "But that's not important."

"Isn't it? You haven't figured it out, then," she noted.

He turned his head to look at her, forcing her to look up at him. She still could not make out his eyes through the mask, though his smile seemed to shine in the darkness.

"I know enough for now," he said intently. "There needs to be some mystery left for later, or else it wouldn't be as fun, don't you think?"

She arched her eyebrow behind her mask, his hand across her back and his gloved fingers closed around hers feeling strong and firm.

"That is true," she began.

"Excuse me. May I?"

She turned and blinked as another man, similar to her dance partner in height and build came up to them. His mask was black and silver, and he also wore gloves. Holding out his hand, he nodded to her, then to her partner.

Before she could reply, her partner released her and bowed. She started to say something when the second man took her into hold.

"Shall we?" he asked, starting another waltz.

She glanced around, unable to see where the first man had disappeared to. Frowning slightly, she nodded and kept dancing, turning her attention to her current partner.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked.

She arched her eyebrow in question, confused as to the turn of events. "I am, and you?" she replied carefully, trying to decipher some feature of this new dancer. He was again the same shape as Xavier, but it was difficult to tell from his voice or movements whether it was indeed the French Minister or not.

"I am now," he smiled.

She frowned again as he looked away, guiding her through the waltz with ease. Was this all a mere coincidence, or some sort of game?

"Why did you cut in?" she asked, watching his reaction. "It's rather rude, don't you think?"

"I asked politely, and you yielded to me," he answered.

She shook her head. "My partner yielded. I did not."

"Well, you're with me now, aren't you?" he chuckled. "Who was your partner, then?"

"I don't know. I was in the process of finding out," she replied.

He laughed and nodded. "You'll see him again, and if you don't, there are others here that you can get to know."

"Such as yourself," she stated.

"If you like," he nodded. "Maybe you already know me, and just aren't aware of it."

"Maybe," she allowed. "Do you know me?"

"Maybe. Do you want me to?" he challenged.

"I have very little control over who knows me and who doesn't," she smirked. "Just because you know who I am does not mean you know me, however."

"Fair enough. I want to know the woman behind the mask. Does that make it clearer?" he asked.

She smiled and looked away, moving through the last notes of the dance. When she turned back up to him, a jolt of adrenaline raced through her at seeing his hungry stare.

"It does help, yes," she conceded.

"And?" he pressed.

"The night is still young," she nodded, stepping out of his hold. "I'll have to see."

His lips pursed into a thin line as he let her go. She smiled playfully before giving him an embellished curtsey. Before he could recover, she turned and walked away.

"Who was that?" Aline asked, coming over and taking her arm.

"An admirer," Mary replied mischievously. "They're everywhere."

Aline laughed and nodded in understanding.

"Come on. I want to try the tequila," Mary laughed, nudging her towards the bar.

* * *

It was all a scheme.

Mary was convinced that Xavier had planned everything, together with Jean-Paul most likely. Over the course of the evening, she had danced with half a dozen different men, any of whom could have been Xavier. They were all tall, fit, and wore similar masks, though no two were the same. Each of them spoke with a slight accent resembling Xavier's voice, but none exactly spot on. Their mannerisms, movements and glances all reminded her of the French Minister, but she couldn't quite be sure.

It was maddening, and she loved it.

Between the strong drinks, the excellent music and the leering glances and innuendo of her six admirers, she was having a brilliant time. She expected the hour was quite late, but she wasn't tired at all. When the band played more lively numbers, she danced with Aline, or even by herself, raising her arms above her head and revelling in the feeling of being far away. This wasn't Los Angeles anymore. It could be anywhere. It was a moment in time for celebration and she threw herself into savouring every emotion.

" _Marie_."

She turned around at the sound of her voice and grinned as another man approached her, this one far easier to identify.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, kissing Jean-Paul on both cheeks, which was difficult given their masks. She laughed at the ridiculousness of it. "You're not being very festive. Isn't the point that we're supposed to guess who we are first?"

He laughed and shook his head. "I'm terrible at such games. Besides, it isn't hard to figure out that it's me."

She nodded in agreement. Between his basic mask and his accent, she knew it was him the moment he opened his mouth.

"So what do you think of our grand finale?" he asked.

"I love it!" she nodded. "The theme, the décor, the drinks, the music, everything. It's all outstanding."

"Don't forget the most important feature," he smiled, gesturing to the movie scenes still being shown on the walls. "None of this happens without you, _Marie_."

She turned and looked up, smiling at the video of her kissing her lover from the movie.

"It wasn't all me," she shrugged, looking back at Jean-Paul.

"It was you, _Marie_ ," he nodded. "We could not have done the same with Aline, or another actress. This is what I envisioned back when _Orlena_ was being made. All of us – you, Paul, me and Xavier – we can make big things happen together."

She nodded in agreement, the high of the party eliminating any doubts or objections she would normally raise. How could she argue with the success of the past week. She had heard the studio estimates. If _Duplicity_ became her first $100 million movie as a lead actress, no door would be closed to her. She could compete for A-list roles and command a top salary. Now, more than ever, she felt on the cusp of finally having the career she wanted.

"What's over there?" she asked suddenly, noticing for the first time as some of the guests were leaving the room and heading down a hallway on the far side.

Jean-Paul smiled, looking over in the same direction. "Those are the private rooms."

"Private rooms? That sounds intriguing," she arched her eyebrow.

"I have no knowledge of what goes on over there," he chuckled. "We make them available for our guests. It prevents them from wandering to the rest of the house. Besides, we're all adults here. There's no reason why we can't ensure that everyone has a comfortable and safe part of the house where they can do whatever it is they wish to do."

She nodded slowly. Her eyes narrowed as she spied the first man who approached her tonight lingering by the hallway. His black and gold mask was easily discernible through the crowd. Seeing him from a distance, she was able to study him more carefully. He had removed his gloves and the dark skin of his hands were now clearly visible. A gold signet ring shone on his right index finger. She smiled in triumph. She had seen that ring before.

It was Xavier.

Just as realization dawned upon her, the man turned and seemed to catch her looking at him. She smiled wider. Though she couldn't see his eyes through the mask, now that she had a chance to see his full figure she was even more convinced that it was the French Minister

He turned his head and nodded towards the hallway, beckoning her to him.

Her eyes narrowed.

He moved away from her and down the hallway.

"Excuse me, please," she stated, not even looking at Jean-Paul as she marched off towards Xavier.

Jean-Paul watched her go and laughed to himself before heading for the bar.

* * *

Mary's pulse quickened in anticipation as she wandered the dark hallway, glancing around for some sign of Xavier. The music was dying down the further she went from the ballroom, just the throbbing bass reaching her now. She didn't know what exactly she would find when she caught up to him. That was all part of the fun. Whatever he had planned for her, she was confident she could handle it. He had already shown her that he would stand down if she ordered him to. That gave her supreme confidence that she held the power over what would ultimately happen between them. He was still willing to support Paul's films to try and be close to her, meaning she had no obligation to be anything other than friendly to him. It was refreshing to not feel as though she was at the mercy of a man for once.

The reaction from fans all week had been surprising and profound. It boosted her confidence in a different way to the support she always received from Matthew and her sisters. Xavier's interest was another level still. She loved the chase, how he continued to pursue her despite her having rejected him before. It was exciting to be the prey one moment, and to turn the tables the next. She felt like a queen, like Cleopatra or Elizabeth I, adored and yet out of reach. Was this not the essence of the masquerade? Duelling with men who longed to unravel her secrets, only to leave them wanting in the end? After tonight, she would return to Toronto and get back to doing real work, living her real life. The end of this week was the end of the little fantasy that she had been living through the release of _Duplicity_ , and she was determined to live every last second.

She approached one of the doors and opened it slowly, just enough to peek inside. A single lamp stood on a small table, casting a faint glow across the room. Her breath caught. A couple were kissing, the light dancing off their bodies. She recognized the man from earlier and panicked for a moment before she noticed his mask was black and blue, not gold. Blushing slightly at having interrupted such an intimate moment, she quietly retreated unnoticed, closing the door and continuing down the hallway.

She covered her smile with her hand, a rush filling her at having played the voyeur, even inadvertently. It only added to the wonder of the evening, how it all seemed so unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Looking at the next set of doors, she wondered which one to try next. She tested one and found it locked. Moving on, she opened another and saw the room was empty.

On her next try, the door opened onto a fully lit room. Poking her head in, she saw shelves and shelves of leather-bound books all neatly arranged and rising from the floor to the ceiling. The furniture was modern and contemporary – leather sofas and matching chairs, wood tables and sleek metal lamps – all in dark browns, blacks and greys. The floor was a black hardwood, with a large white rug covering most of it.

A man stood in the centre, facing to the side. His mask was still on, one of those hideous ones with the long pointed nose and flared sides that obscured most of his face. Mary's eyes widened when she saw a woman kneeling on the floor before him, her dress undone to her waist, her breasts naked and exposed, pleasuring him with her mouth. She still wore her mask as well. Her long black hair flowed down her back elegantly, the contrast between the pale skin of the man and chocolate complexion of the woman were stark.

The woman was Aline.

Mary assumed the man was Félix but she couldn't quite be sure given the mask. She stood in shock for a moment, watching the explicit scene before her as though it was some adult film instead of actually real. The man reached down and patted Aline's head, grunting out his approval. She moaned around him before sitting back and using her hand, hissing lurid words of encouragement up at him.

The man threw his head back and cursed, causing Aline to laugh sultrily and urge him on, her hand moving faster. As she worked on him, she turned her head and glanced to the door. Mary's mouth fell open in shock when their eyes met.

Aline grinned at seeing Mary staring. Her eyes were bright and boastful, almost as though she was pleased she had been caught and now had an audience. She nodded to Mary, keeping her eyes on hers as she moved in and licked her lover slowly, seemingly as much for Mary's benefit as for his.

"Oh, you gorgeous little slut," the man chuckled thickly.

Mary swallowed and broke eye contact with Aline. She stepped away, closing the door as quietly as she could, her heart racing. The man's voice didn't sound like Félix, and his use of English rather than French was jarring. She briskly walked away from the door, her mind jumbled. While it wasn't any concern of hers if Aline was cheating on Félix or not, witnessing the possibility of it directly was yet another unexpected moment in a night full of them. She took a deep breath to try and calm herself before moving on, her heartbeat still thumping in her chest.

There were only three doors left now. Trying one, she opened it and immediately recoiled, the strong stench of marijuana mixed with something else hitting her nose. Looking inside, she found two men sprawled on the couch puffing away, grey-blue clouds floating above them. Stepping inside to look about the entire room, she seemed to be beyond either man's notice. She knew the smell of pot, but this was different – stronger, more potent, more malignant.

"They'll be like this for a while. Tequila, marijuana and oxy are a fucking trip."

Mary turned and saw a tall woman leaning against the wall, a cigarette balanced delicately in her hand. Her mask was still on, but it didn't do enough to hide her appearance.

"You are Lady _Marie Crawlee_ , yes?" Geneviève smiled coldly. "The big star?"

Mary nodded. There was no point in hiding her identity from the older actress.

"Paul's new favourite," Geneviève laughed, shaking her head. "So predictable, he is."

She looked at Mary as if appraising her somehow. Sighing to herself, she took a long drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke off to the side.

"You were good in the movie," Geneviève nodded. "Better than in your others. Paul must be pleased with you."

Mary wasn't paying much attention to the woman's words. Being able to see her up close now, she noticed details that weren't so readily apparent earlier when she saw her in the parlour. The older woman had pale skin and tired eyes, small lines on her face showed her age or cosmetic surgery she'd had done that didn't quite go as planned. Her body was almost waifish thin, her dress more hanging on to her than being proudly displayed. The long fingers holding her cigarette were more bony than elegant. There was nothing remarkable about her, the presence that Mary had found so palpable in her past films entirely gone.

"I would invite you to stay, but you must have people waiting for you. All of your admirers, fans," Geneviève continued, casting her hand dismissively towards the coffee table where various rolled cigarettes, pills and shot glasses sat waiting, a glass bottle half full of tequila off to the side. "You're the star now. People want to be close to you."

Mary watched as the actress swayed on her feet and slowly made her way back to the middle of the room. She sank into a chair and took another hit of her cigarette, adding to the cloud of smoke hovering above. Her eyes seemed vacant and empty, her head falling back to gaze up at the ceiling.

Mary watched her for a few more moments, long enough to confirm that whatever their little interaction just now was, it was over. A haze of smoke seemed to descend over the room. Geneviève had gone someplace else.

* * *

It was the last room at the end of the hallway. Somehow, she knew he was waiting inside. She slipped inside, the door closing shut behind her.

The chamber was half lit, enough that she could see the paintings that lined the walls, but not so bright as to break whatever spell had the house and its guests in its grip. She stepped forward, her eyes moving over the art, recognizing some of it, disregarding others. A leather sofa sat in the middle of the room, a bottle of wine and two glasses sat on a small table beside it. The room reminded her of the small gallery at Xavier's home in Paris. Yet another indication that she had guessed right as to who the man in the black and gold mask was.

"You found me."

A shiver ran down her back at hearing his voice, the disguised accent gone away. She looked to her left and turned as he seemed to emerge from the shadows, his mask still on, his teeth bared in a pleased smile.

"You did make it rather difficult," she noted.

He nodded. "I hope it's been worth the effort."

"That depends," she replied.

"On what?" he asked.

"On whether you are who I think you are," she noted.

"And if I'm not?" he chuckled. "You'll be disappointed?

"Of course. Wouldn't you be?" she replied.

He looked her over, a smirk on his lips. "I can't see how I would be."

She arched her eyebrow. "Well, then. How is this to work? The moment of truth?"

He shrugged. "What do you suggest?"

"Oh, I don't know. Revealing ourselves on the count of three seems rather unfulfilling," she remarked.

"No, we can do better than that," he agreed.

She watched as he removed his phone from the inside pocket of his tuxedo. A few quick swipes across the screen and music began playing from hidden speakers around the room.

"Well played," she laughed, nodding when he came forward and offered her his hand.

He took her into hold and turned her about, swaying to the music. It was more of a modern slow dance than a waltz, and the comfortable feeling of being in Xavier's arms gave her further confirmation that her hunch was correct. Relaxing a little, she closed her eyes and let him lead, the noise of the ballroom faded away completely.

"I'll ask you again. Enjoying yourself tonight?" he posed.

"Mmm hmm," she nodded, keeping her eyes closed. "It's almost a pity that I must go."

He scoffed, the deep and smooth sound seeming to travel from his chest to hers. "It is. Though I know we will see each other again, which makes it a bit easier. Besides, the night isn't quite over yet."

She opened her eyes and smiled. "Are you so sure? Do we know what the future holds?"

He looked down at her and smiled. "I think that I have some idea."

"You are resilient," she acknowledged.

"I know what I want," he stated. "Perseverance only makes it all the more worthwhile in the end."

They continued to dance, his one hand moving up and down her back, the other sliding across her waist. At times it seemed as though he was going to kiss her, his lips tantalizingly close. She kept just enough distance to resist, refusing to close the gap he left in invitation.

Looking away from him, she took in the rest of the room as they turned, the art, the sofa, the wine, the closed door. What was his plan? He had succeeded in bringing her here, had gotten her alone. Plying her with alcohol and groping her on the sofa seemed beneath him. Her thoughts wandered to all she had seen before arriving here. The couple kissing in the dark. Aline going down on that man. Was it part of Xavier's scheme that she stumble upon such lurid scenes before finding him? Did he think they would affect her, make her more compliant?

The song ended and they stopped dancing. He let her step back to arm's length, watching her closely.

She reached up and lightly touched his mask. "May I?"

He smiled. "Take off yours first."

She smirked. "Why should I? Have you earned it?"

He nodded. "Take off your mask, _Marie_."

She laughed. Keeping her eyes on his, she slowly lifted her mask, careful with her hair when she pulled it free.

He grinned. "The mask was beautiful on you, but I prefer you more like this."

She arched her eyebrow and raised her hand, not waiting for permission before she removed the black and gold mask from his face.

"Xavier," she nodded when he was fully revealed.

"Well done," he said in French. "Was it so obvious from the beginning?"

"No," she shook her head, handing his mask to him. "I was thrown off by the others for a moment. You also allowed someone else to cut in on us, which was surprising."

He waved his hand dismissively. "It was nothing. You may dance with whoever you choose. I am not going to be threatened by someone asking for one dance."

He brought her over to the sofa. She sat down while he poured the wine and joined her. Raising his glass to her, he smiled, his free hand moving across the sofa behind her.

"To a memorable evening," he declared. "And many more of them."

She raised her own glass and nodded before taking a sip of the drink. It was smooth and sweet, a litany of flavours hitting her tongue.

"That's very good," she noted, gazing at the glass.

"I had it brought over," he said. "California wines have improved over the years, but a night like tonight deserves only French wine."

She laughed and took another sip.

"How would you like to spend your last hours here?" he asked.

She paused, considering his question. Tonight had been a series of surprises, every moment unpredictable and new.

"It's going quite well as it is," she noted.

He smiled and drank to that.

"What about you?" she asked. "Anything left to do before you go back to France?"

He looked at her warmly and nodded. "Plenty. As you say, it may be a while before I see you next. It is back to government for me."

She nodded. "Boring, is it?"

"Not always, but you would be hard-pressed to find anyone in the French government at a party like this," he smiled.

She laughed. "I can't say I've ever been to a party quite like this one. Jean-Paul has truly sent us out on a high note."

"I am impressed also," he agreed. "I always enjoy our private get-togethers, but this one is exceptional."

"You know, this could be your last chance to convince me to work with you all again," she teased.

He shook his head. "Only you can decide what is in store for your career, _Marie_. We can only present an option. I think we have made a strong argument this week. Paul knows you. He knows how to bring out the best in you, your best work. You see now what Jean-Paul is willing to do to promote the film and make it a success."

"And you?" she asked. "You're the one who maneuvers behind the scenes?"

"Something like that," he nodded. "The fact is you've seen what we are all capable of together. I don't need to say anything more."

"You seem rather confident in my deciding in your favour," she said.

"I don't beg," he declared, looking directly at her. "I also don't think this is the end of our partnership. You will go on to make other movies, and so will we, and our paths will cross again no matter what you decide. It is the business, no? Really, it is a small world, making movies, and with this, this success we have now had, we will always be linked."

She considered his words. It was true that every project was different and opportunities came and went all the time. Even if she chose another film over Paul's for her next step, there would be another after that, and another. It was career suicide to write off anyone entirely, and she had already done so with Henry. If Paul's project was her best option at any given time, there was no reason not to give it due consideration.

"More wine?" he asked, reaching for her glass.

"Please," she smiled, handing it to him and watching as he went over and refilled their drinks.

 **California Suite, Four Seasons Hotel Los Angeles at Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, California, USA, July 27, 2019**

Ivy swiped the keycard and opened the door, growing increasingly nervous as she came into the suite. She had checked in at 7 a.m. and again at 8 a.m. and Lady Mary had not yet returned. She didn't feel the need to call her as of yet, but not being able to locate her boss was a concern slowly developing into a worry.

Lady Mary had gone to that private party late last night after coming back to the hotel to change. Ivy wasn't invited, which suited her well enough. She fell asleep soon after Lady Mary departed, keeping her phone poised with the ringer volume at full blast in case she was summoned at any time during the night. Thankfully, all seemed to have gone well and she enjoyed a great night's sleep, finally able to rest after such a whirlwind week.

Her recharged mood vanished when she reached the bedroom and found the bed undisturbed and unoccupied.

Swallowing, she took out her phone. It was now almost 9 a.m. and she needed to find Lady Mary. Even if she was yelled at for waking her up too early, that was a small price to pay for the reassurance that nothing bad had happened last night. Maybe Lady Mary had slept over at whatever mansion the party was being held at? Maybe she had crashed in a friend's room at the hotel or something. Her mind wandered to numerous scenarios that were far worse and she hit the speed dial urgently.

"Ivy. Good morning."

She almost dropped her phone in shock as she looked up and Lady Mary came walking in, her mask dangling from one hand, her heels from the other.

"Lady Mary! Umm…good morning," Ivy stammered, watching as Mary dropped her heels on the floor and her mask on the dresser. She went through to the bathroom and began removing her jewellery.

"How was the party?" Ivy asked timidly, stopping at the doorway.

"Oh, it was brilliant," Mary smiled, washing off her makeup and giving her face a quick scrub. "I didn't even realize that it was morning until we came outside. I was having so much fun I just lost track of time."

"You were up all night?" Ivy asked.

"It seems that I was, yes," Mary nodded. "Which means I need some sleep. Did Jean-Paul arrange for a plane for us?"

"Actually, Mr Crawley did," Ivy replied.

Mary frowned and looked at her assistant in confusion. "Matthew did?"

"Yes. There's a crew waiting for us. We can leave anytime you like. I guess he wanted to make sure you got back without any problems," Ivy noted.

Mary nodded slowly and turned back to the mirror. "I see. That was very thoughtful of him. Has he called?"

"No," Ivy answered. "I haven't heard from him. Would you like me to reach him?"

"No, that's fine," Mary shook her head. "I'll be back to him soon enough. Come and wake me in three hours. We can leave later this afternoon."

"Got it," Ivy nodded. "Shall I set up a lunch with anyone before we go?"

"No," Mary replied immediately. "I already said my goodbyes to everyone important."

"Okay," Ivy confirmed, turning and leaving the bedroom on her way to the front door.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, August 20, 2019**

"Don't hit your sister!" Anna snapped, picking up Peter and holding him up in front of her. The baby gurgled and kicked his legs a bit, looking at her with wide eyes.

"No hitting, yes?" she repeated, watching him closely. "Yes? Yes? Peter, look at Mummy. No hitting? All right, good."

She hugged him and gave him a quick kiss before putting him back down in the playpen next to Felicia. The twins both fell onto their backs and waved their little arms, staring up at the mobile spinning overhead.

"Love, Mary's here," Alex called from down the hall.

"Coming!" Anna answered, smiling as she nodded to Nanny and left the nursery. For the past month she had traded texts with Mary but hadn't been able to find time to see her. There was so much they needed to catch up on and an hour opened up for both of them today.

* * *

"Hi!" Anna greeted her best friend, kissing her lightly when she came out to the patio. "Thanks so much for coming up."

"Of course," Mary nodded. "I'd rather meet here than at a busy café anyway."

Fruit and smoothies were already spread out for them and they munched away as they talked, getting through the obligatory updates on the twins and how Edith was coping with Kingsley, as well as what Sybil and Emma were up to. Now that she was a mother, Anna seemed to keep in touch with Mary's sisters more often, the three of them having video chats and group messages at all hours. They had even managed to have all four kids online at once, Emma wondering why the other three couldn't talk quite yet and calling them 'no fun', much to the ladies' amusement. With all the talk of babies out of the way, they were able to move on to a proper chat. Anna desperately wanted to break out the wine, or even a pitcher of sangria, but she was due to pump again later tonight and couldn't risk it. Mary didn't seem to care. Ever since coming back from Los Angeles, she was all business, it seemed. She and Matthew were pulling long hours on set and Alex said he hadn't heard much from him, either.

"I imagine Jean-Paul and the rest of them are delighted with _Duplicity_ ," Anna beamed, taking a sip of her smoothie. "The takings so far have been outstanding."

"Everyone's thrilled," Mary nodded. "They're already talking up Paul's next project. He wants to do a period piece next, something from the 1920's."

"And he wants you to star," Anna guessed.

"Obviously," Mary laughed. "The story is about an Englishwoman who loses her husband in the War and goes to France to retrace his last steps. She discovers he had a different life over there and tries to come to terms with that, all amidst the euphoria of the post-War era. Xavier promised that we can start whenever I want."

"Have you decided to do it, though?" Anna asked.

"No," Mary shook her head. "I don't want to consider it until _Damocles_ is wrapped, really."

"That's unlike you," Anna joked. "You usually want your schedule planned a year in advance."

"I know," Mary admitted. "But I'll have publicity to do ahead of the premiere of that World War II spy film, so I can't see myself starting another project before next year."

"Really? You're slowing down," Anna smiled.

"Maybe. Perhaps taking a bit of a break wouldn't be such a bad idea. Matthew will be in post-production for the rest of the year after we wrap, so it's better if I don't take off straight away."

Anna looked at her curiously. "This is new. His schedule usually isn't a factor."

Mary rolled her eyes and looked out at the calm waters of the swimming pool. "Perhaps it's time that it should be."

Anna blinked and watched Mary closely. Her friend seemed to be far away for a moment. "Did something happen? Did Matthew demand that you be more accommodating?"

Mary looked back at her and shook her head. "No. He would never demand anything of me. I just think that I might need a new approach."

"But why? _Duplicity_ has been your biggest solo film to date. You've never been more in demand," Anna commented. "Whatever you've been doing has worked."

"When I was in Los Angeles, I met someone," Mary explained. "Geneviève – this actress that I watched when I was younger. She was quite a big star in France. I didn't realize it before, but she worked with Paul quite a bit."

Anna nodded. "She was his chosen one at that time, you mean?"

Mary nodded. "She hasn't worked in ages. Aline said that she decided to retire early and just live off of her money, but I'm not so sure. The woman I met didn't seem to be content with her life."

"No?" Anna prompted.

"No," Mary shook her head. "She seemed quite bitter and lost, almost angry that she'd been passed over. She didn't say it in so many words, but I got the sense that she resented me, and I'd never met her before."

"Are you afraid that the same might happen to you?" Anna asked. "That you'll be left behind at some point?"

"Not exactly," Mary clarified. "Even if my career were to end tomorrow, I would be better off than her, I imagine. And it isn't as if I don't see struggling actresses all the time. It's just that meeting her the way I did, and seeing what she had become affected me more than I realized at the time."

"You said you had a lot of fun at the party," Anna recalled.

"I did. It was fantastic. I was up all night," Mary nodded. "I've been thinking about Geneviève quite a bit since I got back though. This job is all a trade-off, isn't it? Top of the world one moment, and forgotten the next. We all accept it when we get started. One moment of fame is worth years of struggle before, and years of dismissal afterwards. Maybe I've been so obsessed with fighting to get to the top that I didn't entirely contemplate what happens next."

"Which is?" Anna questioned.

Mary gave her a sad smile. "You get pushed off. Cast aside."

"I think you've got a while to go yet," Anna said encouragingly. "Women work well into their fifties and sixties now. There's plenty of examples."

Mary nodded. "I know. I'm not trying to say that I've even reached the pinnacle of my career yet. Still, I wonder if Geneviève thought her time would end when it did. Did she understand that her last movie for Paul would be it, or did he promise her more before moving on without her?"

"It doesn't sound like he's ready to replace you anytime soon," Anna reminded her. "Besides, even if you chose not to work with him again, you've still got plenty of options. The studios that shut you out before are more than happy to have you back now, I expect."

"You're right," Mary agreed. "Things are good. I just don't want to get too far ahead of myself this time, I suppose. _Duplicity_ has been a pleasant surprise, but I can't allow myself to think it means more than it does. Any studio would pass me over for the next pretty young thing to come along. I need to remember that."

"Worst case scenario, you can always keep working with Matthew. I don't see him going off of you ever," Anna laughed.

Mary took a sip of her smoothie. "Thankfully that's true. I think I always knew I was lucky to have him on my side, but I actually believe it now."

Anna smiled in understanding.

"He has become a bit of a dictator on set, though," Mary smirked. "He's absolutely mad with power."

Anna laughed and reached for the grapes.

* * *

After seeing Mary off, Anna went upstairs, listening intently for the sounds of crying, laughing, or other baby-related noises. Hearing nothing, she crept along the hallway and peeked into the nursery. Nanny was sitting in the rocking chair watching her soap operas on her iPad. Looking up, she smiled at Anna and gave her a thumbs up. Anna smiled and looked at the twins fast asleep in their joined cribs. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, she nodded to Nanny and backed away. She felt giddy as she moved briskly down the hall.

"They're asleep," she announced, coming into the bedroom and closing the door behind her. Alex looked up from his phone and smiled.

"Miracle," he joked.

"One that I plan on taking full advantage of," she giggled, coming over and straddling him. "Lose the phone."

He chuckled and placed his phone on the nightstand. "No phone? But what if I want some photos?"

"I let you take more than enough photos last night, I think," she frowned, leaning in and kissing his neck.

"Yeah, you're right," he smiled. He pulled her top off and unhooked her bra, his hands sliding over her smooth skin while she licked her way across his face. "Those will last me for a while."

"I can't believe you wanted to. I still have ten pounds to lose," she mumbled.

"You don't have to lose a thing," he answered, reaching down and slipping a hand past her shorts to cup her arse. "Have I not proven to you that you're more than hot enough just the way you are?"

"You have, though I do still like being reminded," she laughed between kisses.

"How this for a reminder?" he asked, taking her hand and pushing it down to feel his arousal.

"So insatiable," she teased, squeezing him before moving up to unbutton his shirt.

"Look who's talking," he joked. "I love how you've been so into it since we got the go ahead from Dr. Ryder."

"You do, do you?" she smiled, removing his shirt and kissing his bare chest. "You like how I want it all the time?"

"I fucking love it," he growled.

He rolled them over and removed her shorts and panties, kissing her all over. She fought back against him, turning him long enough to take off his trousers and boxer briefs before they ducked under the duvet, hands exploring their naked bodies.

"Mmm, babes? We need to think of a code word," she whispered, kissing him softly while she stroked him with her hand.

"A code word for what?" he asked, fondling her breast.

"A code word to use around the children when we want some alone time," she explained, smiling as he swelled in her hand.

"Love, I really don't think it's necessary yet. As much as I love our children, they aren't exactly smart enough to understand what we're talking about," he noted. "Besides, it's not as if you don't know when I want to fuck you. The answer is all the time."

"Yeah, clearly," she replied, turning her head to let him ravish her neck. "That's why we need one. With the staff and our parents here now, discretion is important."

"Our parents are leaving next month," he reminded her. "And the staff are supposed to be discrete. That's why we pay them."

"I meant that you have to be more discrete," she corrected him.

"Me?" he repeated.

"Yeah, you," she nodded, closing her eyes as his fingers built her up. "Whispering in my ear in front of everyone is a bit obvious, don't you think?"

"I guess," he allowed. "How about a code phrase?"

"Such as?" she asked, looking at him, her hand still playing with him teasingly.

"Let's go fuck?" he suggested.

Yeah, real discrete, that one," she rolled her eyes.

"What about 'I need you to help me with a file'?" he continued.

"You really want me to dress up like a secretary, don't you?" she smiled.

"If you look half as sexy as you do in that maid's outfit, then hell yeah," he nodded.

"Why is it I'm the one dressing up for you all the time, by the way?" she asked, pushing him down on to his back and kissing her way down his chest. "I might just have a roleplaying fantasy or two that I want you to act out for me, you know."

"Love, anything you want," he smiled, running his hand down her back and squeezing her ass. "Tell me all about them."

"I have always had a thing for barristers' robes, actually," she mused. "You could be the merciless prosecutor and I'd come to you begging you to save my husband from a death sentence, offer you my body in return for you letting him go free."

"Love, we don't have the death penalty in Canada," he advised.

"Shut up. It's my fantasy," she scolded him, bending over and licking his length. "Do you think you could make it happen?"

"Easily. I'd want to buy my own set of robes instead of borrowing them from someone at the office, though," he thought aloud.

"Definitely you should," she laughed. "They could end up getting lots of use."

"Fuck, Anna," he grunted, breathing heavily as she took him into her mouth.

She warmed with arousal at how quickly and eagerly he responded to her. Sex was hardly the foundation of their relationship, she knew, but after having the twins, knowing that her husband still lusted for her as rabidly as before filled her with pride. She spent so much time and energy trying to be a good mother. It was reassuring to know that he loved and appreciated her as a wife and lover just for being herself.

"So about that code phrase," she teased, stroking him slowly and pressing light kisses across his legs and stomach.

"Yeah?" he grunted, raising up and looking at her, the muscles of his arms and chest on full display as his blood raced through his veins.

"Any ideas?" she asked, giving him a knowing look.

"Yeah. Tons," he snarled, leering at her naked body kneeling over him.

She grinned. "We really need to think of something, babes."

He sat up and grabbed her, drawing a squeal of surprise and delight from his wife before he turned her on to her back and moved on top.

"Later," he snapped, kissing her firmly.

She raised her legs and hooked them around his hips. "I suppose we can put it off for a while."

He captured her mouth once more. She moaned as he thrust inside of her, her arms and legs tightening around him and drawing him closer. He bypassed slow and gentle entirely and moved straight to hard and rough, pumping faster when she cried out in encouragement. Her release hit quickly, his hips driving her through it and on to the next. She cried out in pleasure, chanting his name and clinging to him. These afternoon sessions of theirs were always frantic and passionate, both of them seeming to think they had limited time before the twins woke up. That wasn't entirely true, but the hurried nature of their lovemaking seemed to excite them both. They greedily chased their release, spurring each other on with dirty words that they knew would have the desired effect.

He managed to control himself just long enough to give her a warning as he flew towards the brink.

She sent him over with a perfectly timed plea in her most seductive voice.

He shouted and leaned forward, covering her completely just as he poured into her.

She gasped and moaned, hanging on to him until she felt he was sated. He withdrew and placed tender kisses all along her neck and forehead, soothing her as her pulse gradually came back to normal. She snuggled against him, smiling as he wrapped his arms around her protectively.

"Fuck," he breathed. "That was good."

She laughed freely, nuzzling against his neck. "I should be exhausted, but I'm really not."

"Good," he smiled, stroking her back. "We've got a few minutes before they're due to wake up."

She reached around and spanked him lightly, a smile on her face. Closing her eyes, she sighed contentedly and cuddled closer to him.


	24. Chapter 24

**Previously:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, August 20, 2019**

He managed to control himself just long enough to give her a warning as he flew towards the brink.

She sent him over with a perfectly timed plea in her most seductive voice.

He shouted and leaned forward, covering her completely just as he poured into her.

She gasped and moaned, hanging on to him until she felt he was sated. He withdrew and placed tender kisses all along her neck and forehead, soothing her as her pulse gradually came back to normal. She snuggled against him, smiling as he wrapped his arms around her protectively.

"Fuck," he breathed. "That was good."

She laughed freely, nuzzling against his neck. "I should be exhausted, but I'm really not."

"Good," he smiled, stroking her back. "We've got a few minutes before they're due to wake up."

She reached around and spanked him lightly, a smile on her face. Closing her eyes, she sighed contentedly and cuddled closer to him.

 **Chapter 24:**

 **Casa Loma, Toronto, Canada, August 28, 2019**

Mary sat forward in her chair, her phone poised in her hands. The makeup artist had finished her work and now the stylists were checking over the tight French Twist to make sure her hair looked elegant and refined. Satisfied that all was in order, they left her and moved on to the next actor. Mary liked to go over the coming scene one last time while in the makeup trailer, and everyone knew by now to leave her alone in these final moments before the actors were called to set.

There was no need to run her lines again. She had them down cold from having rehearsed with Matthew numerous times. It was more about her state of mind and getting in the right mood for what the scene required. This was one of the more dramatic ones – the part of the film where Damocles realizes that the life of the King isn't for him and he prepares to leave, only for Queen Astrid to confront him. It was a fight, confession and breakup all in one scene, and nailing the different shifts in emotion was crucial.

After months of filming, she was having a blast playing Astrid. The character was a confident woman left scorned by King Dionysius' tyrannical reign and arranged marriage. She saw Damocles as an interloper, someone placed on the throne through a ridiculous scheme dreamed up by her husband, and someone unfit to rule. However, her freedom depended on this new boy, and so she had a vested interest in his success. She pretended to accept him, forged a working relationship with him, gained his trust in order to control his power and take back her life from her husband. Manipulating Damocles included seducing him, but over the course of the film, Astrid found herself reluctantly developing actual feelings for the man, leaving her in a conflict between continuing the charade of an affair, while plotting her own escape at the same time. That inner struggle represented Matthew's interpretation of the Sword of Damocles concept. Much like the sword dangling above Damocles' head by a single thread, the audience saw the conniving Queen as an ever-present threat drawing closer and closer to her target. The question of whether her feelings were genuine or not was analogous to whether the sword would fall and destroy him, or remain at a safe distance. It was a subtle comparison, designed to encourage the audience to follow the story, rather than be concerned with matching up the characters to their counterparts in Greek mythology.

The more modern setting helped Mary portray the character as she wished. She wasn't some meek woman standing behind the throne holding on to her skirts. She wore designer power suits and sharp stilettos, brandished her phone and tablet as her weapons of choice and commanded an army of assistants in running the empire. Unlike the femme fatales of the classics, such as Helen of Troy, Samson's Delilah, Circe, or Medea, Mary's Queen Astrid was not relegated to using sex to get what she wanted. She was very much written as being superior to both Kings in the film, and did not allow sentiment to sway her.

Her hard edge was worn down over time as she saw Damocles in a different light, and this change was what impressed Mary so much about Matthew's script. He wasn't confining her character to be stereotypically one-note – either a maiden in distress or a bitch with an attitude. He wrote Astrid as a Queen, wife, rival, confidant, friend, temptress and victim. Every scene seemed to have several nuances, and Mary attacked them all with gusto, always looking for opportunities to push the boundaries of the character and the story. Sometimes she would even change the dialogue or tone to see if she could shock Matthew with her performance, but he was right in-step with her, giving her the confidence to try anything and everything.

She scrolled through Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, rituals that she began back at the start of filming. Putting herself entirely in Astrid's headspace involved seeking different sources of motivation. Acting annoyed at Damocles' rapid rise was not difficult. Mary was able to draw from countless times in her career that she had been passed over for another actress who wasn't nearly as experienced or talented, to say nothing for dealing with men who had no clue what they were talking about and still were given ridiculous amounts of power. Even showing how she was warming to him over time was simple. As much as she prided herself on being professional, it was not difficult looking at her husband during a scene and letting arousal and mischief fill her. For today's scene, where Astrid went from outrage that Damocles would consider leaving to desperation at possibly losing him from her life, she needed the type of source material that only social media could provide.

 _'I love you! Kisses from Sweden! Check your DMs please!'_

 _'Boy, you are so damn fine! ILYSM!'_

 _'Papi, you are so sexy!'_

 _'Let me know when you're in NYC! DTF!'_

She frowned, seething more and more as she read each comment posted to Matthew's accounts, or photos of him posted by others. Some of his female fans were outrageous in their admiration of him, and others were downright shameless. There were accounts dedicated entirely to posting a different photo of him every day, and while usually harmless, they became gathering points for women to drool all over her husband online.

The fans she didn't mind too much. She had over a million fans herself. It was the bikini models, Internet famous bloggers and porn stars and their lot that were the worst. Matthew claimed that he never paid any attention to them, and didn't even know they were commenting, but realistically, how could he not? Direct messages went straight to his inbox, and as much as Matthew abhorred social media, his meticulous nature meant he would never just ignore a message notification or private tweet. She knew that he didn't actually care about all the attention, but harnessing the feeling of rage and putting it into her performance as Astrid was easily done when she spent time perusing what these complete strangers thought of him.

What she didn't want to admit was that she and Astrid had something else in common – the ugly jealousy they both felt towards the men in their lives. While Damocles was dazzled by the beauty and riches of court life in the movie and spent the first Act indulging in the cars, clothes, food, wine and women available to him in his new position, he yearned most for the Queen's regard. Similarly, Matthew held Mary's opinion above all others, and the fact that he could cast aside all of these other women made her feel both relieved and envious.

As much as she wanted to, Mary couldn't dismiss her admirers as quickly as he did. She cared more about what people thought of her, and a part of her was still addicted to the thrill of being fawned over. Her mind drifted back to Los Angeles and being pursued by Xavier and those other masked men. Matthew would never play such games, never revel in such superficial nonsense.

Matthew would never hide away in a private room with another woman drinking wine and talking until dawn.

She frowned, locking her phone and putting it on the vanity for Ivy to collect later. She hadn't done anything wrong that night, or ever since she got back together with Matthew. Flirting with Xavier was similar to doing a love scene with Henry or Aline, she told herself. It was all a performance done for a purpose, and not actually real or a reflection of who she really was.

Still, how did she feel when she saw Matthew and Rooney having sex on screen? How would she feel if he replied to any of these silicone princesses thirsting for him?

Getting up from her chair, she tied her robe tighter around her and headed out to the set, her eyes narrow, her lips pursed, her face set in determination. Stirrings of anger, frustration, fear, and guilt swirled inside her, ready to be drawn upon at a moment's notice to make this next scene memorable.

* * *

"But I don't understand. Why go? Nothing's changed," Mary demanded, looking at Matthew imploringly.

"Everything's changed," he replied curtly, shaking his head.

She frowned at his answer. "How so? You can't be disillusioned already just because you've actually had to take on real responsibilities as of late? The work hasn't been that hard."

"No, that's not it," he snapped. "I'm not meant to be King, as you pointed out so succinctly in the beginning. The real King, your husband, was generous to include me in his…experiment…but that's all over with now. I must go back to my real life."

"You were hardly bothered about my husband when you took me to your bed, or have you forgotten?" she retorted.

"Your Highness, it was your bed, not mine," he answered. "What do you expect of me? Dionysius will not stay away forever, and when he does return to take back his throne, what is left here for me, then?"

"I'm here," she declared.

He laughed mirthlessly. "Will you be? Or will you be far away, never to be seen or heard from again?"

She blinked.

"I should have known that someone like me could never get someone like you," he sighed bitterly. "Everyone at court is playing at something. Isn't that was you taught me? You are far more adept at such things, playing these games. I followed along at first. This place was too grand and the delights too enticing to resist. Now, I see nothing but danger and ruin, and I have no interest in continuing."

"You can't turn away from all that you have here," she hissed. "Look at all that you've done, all the good. You've changed people's lives in such a short time…"

"To what end?" he growled, waving his hand dismissively. "Dionysius will reverse all of that, take it all away, make it as though I had never existed! Why stay for that?"

"Do you not have any reason?" she asked, her voice softening.

"I did, yes. One," he nodded, looking at her directly. "But I see now that was but a dream."

"Was it? Or are you too afraid to trust in it? To believe in it?" she challenged.

"If it's as real as you say, why not tell me yourself?" he snarled through clenched teeth. "You speak in riddles and make hints and suggestions, but not once have you come out and said anything about the future."

Her eyes widened.

"I thought it was because you weren't raised to be open with your feelings, but now I think there may be a much more obvious reason," he finished.

"What would you have me say?" she whispered.

"If I need to tell you, there's nothing to be said," he scoffed, looking away.

"Everything is so easy to you, isn't it?" she huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "You know nothing of politics, of what the true cost is of what you're asking of me, and when I hesitate in the face of all that looms over us, you consider that an insult, when there is much more at play here than you know!"

"Do you love me, yes or no?" he shot back. "There should be no politics in that, unless your answer is based on something besides how you feel."

She swallowed, her face falling.

He nodded grimly and bowed his head. "Good day to you."

She opened her mouth to speak, but could only watch him go.

He slammed the door behind him.

She turned away and looked upwards, her teeth grinding together in rage. Turning her head, she saw her reflection in an ornate mirror mounted on the wall. Grimacing at the image, she grabbed a crystal goblet from the side table and launched it at the mirror. Her scream of fury echoed to the ceiling as the glass shattered.

"And cut!" Matthew called from the doorway. "That could be the one. Let's run it again to be sure."

Mary unclenched her fists and stepped back to her mark. Crew members scrambled to sweep up the broken glass, fix the mirror and replace the goblet.

"That was great. Up for another one?" he asked, coming over and smirking at her.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Ready when you are. I've only just begun, darling."

* * *

"Lady Rosamund wanted to speak to you, and I printed out the new set of scripts that she sent over," Ivy stated crisply as she followed Mary towards her trailer.

"I've barely got time to talk to her. They're already blocking the next scene. Go and tell Matthew that I'll be there shortly. If I don't call her back now, she'll be bothering me all afternoon," Mary grumbled.

Ivy nodded and took off for the set. Mary went into her trailer, over to the desk and grabbed her tablet.

"Mary," Aunt Rosamund smiled, picking up the video call.

"Auntie, hello," Mary nodded.

"Please, Mary," Rosamund frowned. "Do not call me that."

"Ivy mentioned you called?" Mary noted, rolling her eyes.

"I did. I sent you another batch of scripts that came in. I also emailed you your itinerary for the press interviews during the film festival next week," Rosamund advised.

"I glanced at it briefly," Mary replied. "It seems fine, though we don't exactly have a gala opening slot."

"Nevertheless, it's important that you make a concerted effort in your interviews, Mary," Rosamund stated. "It was a coup for Sam to finish the film in time to screen at Toronto at all. It bodes well for building momentum through to the premiere in December. With most of the cast not coming over, the spotlight will be all yours."

"Yes, I wasn't planning on winging it," Mary retorted.

"Now, besides promoting your spy film, there's a series of meetings. I understand that Xavier will be in the city?" Rosamund mentioned.

Mary's eyes narrowed at the mention of his name. "Yes. He's been in touch. He wants to meet to try and sway me to considering Paul's next film, no doubt."

"Regardless, spending time with him is a wise move considering his support of your past work and his willingness to continue," Rosamund suggested.

"I expect I'll run into him at one of the parties already. I have the script and I know their pitch quite well by now. I don't think a formal meeting needs to be scheduled. Remember, I'm fitting these interviews and meetings in while still filming. I don't have the time or the interest in having meetings that are rather not necessary," Mary stated.

"Fine, just don't be rude if you are going to cancel anything. I want to make sure that you understand the importance of this next period," Rosamund continued. "Capitalizing on the success of _Duplicity_ requires that every opportunity be pursued to the utmost advantage."

"Is that why you've sent me scripts for supporting roles?" Mary asked coldly. "Leveraging my first $100 million film as a lead actress into taking a backseat to someone else is your idea of a grand plan, is it?"

"It's important to keep you working, Mary, and those are the projects that have been offered most recently," Rosamund explained calmly. "Things are sure to pick up, particularly after your next film comes out at the end of the year, but you can't dismiss a role simply because it isn't the lead."

"Watch me," Mary replied pointedly. "Don't send me anything where I'm second billing anymore, unless there's a very good reason for it."

"Just look over what you've already got. It can't hurt," Rosamund instructed, undeterred. "Now, I have some rather exciting news."

"What's that?" Mary asked suspiciously.

"There's talk – all preliminary, of course – that a _Paladin_ film could be in the works," Rosamund grinned.

Mary blinked in shock. "What?"

"There's some traction for it. The worldwide audience is still very significant. Reruns of past seasons continue to be shown in some countries. The original producers are exploring the idea, and an outline of a script is making the rounds. Obviously Jade would be an important part of any story," Rosamund affirmed.

"A movie, after all these years?" Mary questioned. "What story is left to tell? Besides, what studio would bank on a film with Tony as the lead?"

Rosamund smirked. "There's talk of bringing Henry back."

"What?" Mary exclaimed, her eyes bulging. "You can't be serious!"

"That's the gossip," Rosamund nodded. "He's smoothed things over with the network, and bringing back Frederick is the kind of draw that would delight the established fanbase and create curiosity among the casual viewers. They would be able to use a modified version of the love triangle plot that never went ahead."

"That never went ahead because Henry ruined everything," Mary sneered. "God, I can't believe this!"

"It's a good opportunity Mary," Rosamund assured her. "You would be taking up a character that you're very well known for, and be part of a project that simply cannot fail. The boost this could give you…"

"Playing a character that I've tried to distance myself from," Mary interjected. "I have no interest in such a project. Can't they simply leave well enough alone?"

"Mary, if there's money to be made, the studio will pursue it, you know that," Rosamund shook her head. "You can't afford to risk alienating your fans, many of whom still adore you and identify you as Jade. If word got out that you rejected the project, you'd be branded as selfish and ungrateful. That is entirely unacceptable."

"That's your advice? The script could be a disaster, you know, especially if they have to come up with some dubious backstory to explain why Henry's character is reappearing," Mary groaned. "To say nothing for how horrible the experience will be – acting alongside Henry and Tony for months, two men that I cannot stand."

"You're a professional, Mary. Your personal feelings towards your co-stars are irrelevant," Rosamund said sharply. "There's no need to get ahead of ourselves. I merely am informing you that the rumour is out there that a _Paladin_ film is in development."

"Noted," Mary said tightly. "Now, I'm due back on set. Goodbye."

She hung up before Rosamund could reply. Frowning and shaking her head, partly in disbelief, partly in anger, she rose from her chair and headed out.

* * *

Matthew walked around the set, checking the set-up for different props, furniture and camera positions. Filming in the castle was made easier by other movies and television shows having used it numerous times. Many of his crew had experience working here already and knew how to best use the venue for various types of scenes. So far, he was pleased with the results, the rough cuts showing the look he wanted – a place from another era, contrasting well with the actors dressed in modern clothes. Satisfied that the set was properly prepared, he returned to his director's chair.

His ears perked up when he heard the clicking of high heels on hardwood. Glancing up, he saw Mary stomp towards her mark, a bit of a scowl on her usually serene face. Ivy had mentioned to him that Mary was on a call with her Aunt Rosamund, but he assumed it was business as usual. No one in the cast and crew seemed to notice Mary's mood, and she stood patiently by as hair and makeup artists touched up her look, nothing at all seeming amiss.

"Hey, Denzel," Matthew called, waving the Oscar winner over.

"Yeah?" Denzel replied, coming over to him.

"I want you to try something a bit unconventional in this scene," Matthew began, smiling at him conspiratorially.

Denzel gave him a sideways glance. "Like what?"

* * *

Mary stewed as she waited on her mark. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to wipe the conversation with Aunt Rosamund from her mind. She knew when she called her during her break between filming that it would only end up annoying her, but after knowing her aunt for her entire life and having her as her agent for all of her career, she was conditioned to respond to her promptly.

It wasn't as if any of Aunt Rosamund's advice was unexpected. Her job was to promote Mary as best she could, and given her bias against Matthew, that meant steering her to other projects. Still, the idea of taking supporting roles, particularly in films that didn't have high profile ensembles or directors attached to them, seemed to be a step backward. More worrisome was how she gushed over the prospect of a _Paladin_ movie. The very idea made Mary want to throw up.

Years ago, she would have done anything for another season of her show. Henry's betrayal left her aimless, without the starring vehicle that had built her career in North America. The idea of playing Empress Jade on the big screen would have seemed too good to be true back then. While the movies she had done since were not far and away superior to what a _Paladin_ film could be, she was still dead set against it. Going back to Jade now seemed like a desperate move, a cash grab by the studio and an admission on her part that she was incapable of playing anyone else to great success. She didn't think the script would be very good, given that they already attempted to wrap up everyone's arc in the final season, but she still had to grudgingly admit that bringing Henry back was the type of move that would grab people's attention.

As deplorable as the man was, Henry was still a star actor, with a resumé and following that dwarfed hers, Tony's and everyone else on the show. One of the few men who arguably enjoyed a better past few years in the business than Henry, ironically, was Matthew. If the producers and studio could forgive Henry for killing the show in the first place, the fans most certainly would. They didn't think his scandal was overly egregious, as evidenced by the fact that all of his films had been successful ever since.

Her lips curled with disdain. She had convinced herself that working with Henry again wouldn't be entirely out of the question, depending on the project and the script. However, a _Paladin_ movie would be a horrible experience. Back on his old figurative stomping grounds, Henry would be absolutely insufferable on and off-set. As well, if Frederick was in the film, it was guaranteed there would be at least one love scene between him and Jade, and as professional as she was, the thought of letting Henry put his hands on her was abominable and kissing him entirely disgusting after all he did. It was one thing to look past it if they were acting together in a new film, but to return to _Paladin_ and have to pretend to be in love with his character was a step too far.

"Ready on set," Matthew called from his post.

Mary closed her eyes and breathed out. She tried to channel her annoyance and frustration into the scene ahead. Agonizing over the ongoing injustice of her career must wait. She owed it to herself, the rest of the cast and crew and most of all, to Matthew, to focus on the task at hand.

"And action!" Matthew ordered.

Mary opened her eyes and heard firm footsteps behind her. She waited for Denzel to approach and stop short of her before reciting her first line. "Well, it appears that you've won."

"Why would you say that?" Denzel replied lightly.

"Damocles has ceded the throne back to you," she answered tightly, still facing away from him.

"Strange. I've heard no such news," Denzel noted.

"Well, it's true," Mary snapped, turning around. "He told me."

She almost gasped in surprise when she saw Denzel for the first time. The multiple Oscar winner was wearing a tailored suit and accompanying bejewelled cufflinks and tie clip, as befitted King Dionysius in this scene. A sharp red pocket square was folded neatly over one breast.

Her eyes took all of that in and lingered on the bright pink afro wig adorned on his head.

"He told you?" Denzel repeated, continuing with the scene as if nothing was amiss at all. "Well, it seems the young man has come to his senses and realized that only the strong should rule."

"His change of heart is rather startling," Mary struggled, choking out the words as Denzel gave her a teasing smirk. "It's almost as if someone intervened to turn him."

"I can't see how that's possible," Denzel shrugged. "Though I will admit that I am tickled pink to take my rightful position back on the throne."

He delivered that line with particular emphasis on the word 'pink' and Mary lost it.

She almost doubled over, laughing heartily as the crew burst out all around them. Denzel came over and hugged her, chuckling at her coming undone.

"Take that stupid thing off!" she cried, still laughing as she slapped his chest lightly.

"You don't like it?" Denzel asked with false confusion. "I think it looks good on me."

She rolled her eyes, still laughing. "You can wear it off-set if you like."

"Okay, everyone take your marks. Let's run it again," Matthew called.

A stylist came over to take the wig back from Denzel and check that his real hair was properly in place. A few loose strands of pink fuzz had to be brushed off of his suit.

Mary took the time to look over at her husband. He was wearing a knowing smile, his blue eyes warm and playful as he met her gaze. She was still laughing lightly, and when she saw how at ease he was over the prank, she knew he must have had a hand in it.

"Save that one for the blooper reel," Matthew called to his assistant. "Put a special note on it – Lady Mary actually thrown off for once."

She shook her head and laughed, unable to muster even a token frown. He gave her a nod and called out instructions to the crew.

She turned and looked over at Denzel before returning to her mark.

"He put you up to it, didn't he?" she asked.

Denzel smiled knowingly and nodded. "He said you looked like you could use a good laugh."

She smiled and headed for her mark.

 **Bellair Suite, The Hazelton Hotel, Yorkville, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 6, 2019**

Anna smiled and looked out over the street below and the buildings of downtown spread out before her. Tourists and shoppers milled about, none of them looking up at her, which was a good thing considering she was wearing very little beneath her plush bathrobe. Even still, she couldn't be bothered to care. She was far too sated from the massage and pampering she received at the spa, not to mention having napped during the afternoon without a baby monitor or phone in sight.

"You're giving people out here quite the show, Mrs Lewis," Alex joked, coming out and wrapping his arms around her. "They'll think you're up to no good at all."

"Mmm, let them look and think what they want," she smiled confidently, leaning back against him and enjoying his touch. "I know I should care, but I really don't. I have nothing to be ashamed of."

He smiled and turned her head to kiss her softly. "Feel good, I take it?"

"Feel great," she nodded. "Our weekend staycation is going brilliantly well so far."

"And you've only checked the nanny cam four times today," he teased. "You're way under the number I expected."

"Shut your face," she laughed, nudging him with her elbow. "This is my first night away from the kids ever. I'd say I'm doing quite well, all things considered."

"Fair enough," he allowed, kissing her again. "Come inside. I had dinner brought up."

"Do I need to change?" she asked, turning in his arms and looking up at him mischievously.

"No, it's come as you are," he replied, kissing her forehead lightly. "Come on."

"Hang on," she stopped him. "Someone could be watching."

She took hold of his face and kissed him soundly, slipping her tongue into his mouth and arching her back against him.

He hummed smugly and returned her kiss, bending her back a bit and reaching down to caress her bottom through the cotton.

"Now, let's eat," she smirked once they came up for air.

He took her hand and led her back into the suite and through to the dining room where their meal was set out on fine china. The table setting was completed with candles and flowers.

"This looks delicious," she smiled, sitting down on the chair he had pulled out for her.

He took his seat and poured each of them a glass of sparkling water before serving the salads. "So Sybil seemed quite excited earlier."

"As she should be," she nodded. "Although I think Tom is more excited about the prospect of possibly having a son."

"It would be funny if they were one of those couples who tried for the boy and ended up with another daughter," he nodded.

She laughed and took a forkful of salad. "Or if they had twin boys instead?"

"God help them if that happens," he chuckled.

"An April baby. That means she'll be due around the time that Edith starts trying again, probably," she remarked.

"So soon?" he questioned.

"I expect so. They want their kids rather close together, just like she was with Mary and Sybil," she guessed.

"It's an interesting choice. Have them back-to-back and you're dealing with two babies at the same time. Wait longer and it takes longer for the youngest to grow up," he considered.

"And longer before you're child-free," she smirked, sipping her water.

"Yet another reason that we were lucky to get the boy and girl all in one shot," he nodded.

She laughed. "Literally!"

He quirked his eyebrows. "Well, technically it was one out of…"

"Yeah, I get it," she scoffed, laughing ruefully and shaking her head.

He reached across and took her hand, kissing her fingers lightly. "Happy, love?"

She grinned and nodded. "I've never been happier. Especially being without them for the weekend."

He laughed in agreement and served the pasta and vegetables on to two separate plates.

She watched him closely, sipping her water before continuing.

"So what about us? When are we going to try for number three?" she asked.

He blinked and looked at her carefully. "Are you sure you want a third? We'd be outnumbered."

"I really don't know, rather," she shrugged. "It's certainly too soon right now, and I always sort of thought I'd be done after two, but then I didn't expect to have twins the first time. Your Mom sort of hinted at the possibility before she left."

"Your Mum, too," he remarked. "Although she just straight up asked me if we were going to have a third."

"Never been shy, that one," she shook her head. "You'd be up for it, babes. Didn't you always see three or four as the number?"

"That was before I realized just how much work is involved in raising one child, let alone twins," he admitted. "I think the idea of having lots of kids was appealing just cause I grew up as an only child, and so did you. Now, though…"

"Two's enough?" she laughed.

"Maybe," he smiled. "I would not be against trying for a third, however."

"Of course, you wouldn't," she rolled her eyes, corralling a bundle of tagliatelle on her fork. "I'm terrified we'd have another set of twins."

"What are the odds of that happening, though?" he shook his head.

"Considering I never thought we'd have twins to begin with, rather high, I'd say," she retorted.

"Well, you'll be lucky, then. Four kids and only having to go through labour twice," he joked. "Ow!"

He laughed when she punched him in the arm.

"All right, well we don't need to think about it for at least another year," he stated, taking her hand and kissing it. "I want you all to myself for that long."

"I think you're going to have to share me, babes," she smiled. "But yeah, you're right. No need to even think about it for a while yet."

"In a way, the pressure's off. Sybil and Edith have to catch up to you now," he smiled.

"And Mary," she added.

"Yeah, I'm not holding my breath on that one, and I don't think Matthew is either," he shrugged.

"You don't give her enough credit. Family is very important to Mary," she stated. "Now that she's seen her sisters both with children and us with the twins, it'll be on her mind. It may not happen right this instant, but it isn't as if she's not considering it."

"Maybe, but I just think she's really locked in on her career right now, and to be fair, so is Matthew. There's nothing wrong with waiting, but when I think of who's going to be next after Sybil, it's not Mary," he explained.

"She can have a child and a career. Sybil does, and so will I," she declared.

"Sure she can, but I think that Mary is the type who throws herself completely into something, which is why she's so driven with her career. I think she will want to accomplish certain things before she turns to starting a family. I don't think she's at a point in her life where she feels she's ready for children yet, that's all," he said.

"If I've learned anything, it's that you're never quite ready for children, no matter what you do," she smiled wryly.

He laughed and ate his pasta.

"So, what do you have planned for after dinner?" she asked.

He smirked. "I seem to have forgotten to order dessert."

She nodded. "Well, that won't do."

"Maybe we can take a walk and go and grab something?" he suggested.

"That sounds good," she nodded. "We can get take away."

"You don't want to eat out?" he questioned.

She met his eyes. "No. Let's have dessert here."

He grinned and kept on eating.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 12, 2019**

 _'With_ Ungentlemanly Warfare _, director Sam Taylor-Johnson shines a light on real-life stories that have received far too little coverage – the tales of the so-called Churchill's Heroines – women who worked as undercover spies in Nazi-occupied France during World War II.'_

Matthew read the review with nervous caution. Mary's premiere was yesterday and feedback was slowly coming out from the critics who had covered the movie. Compared to the debut of _Duplicity_ and some of his films, this one was decidedly understated. It wasn't a gala premiere, the crowds were small, and publicity was sparse. It was shown at Toronto to drum up interest and increase its distribution. The worldwide premiere was scheduled for December, but the initial response to the movie was still crucial.

 _'The all-female cast makes an admirable effort of trying to tell each character's story within the larger narrative of how dangerous it was to be a woman behind enemy lines during the war. Taylor-Johnson gives everyone significant screen time, and this sometimes causes the pace of the film to bog down. The harrowing adventures of these formidable women becomes jumbled and hard to follow as they weave back and forth.'_

Although he didn't put too much weight in reviews and was always reminding Mary that they weren't nearly as important as they once were, in this case, he hoped that the critics would be kind. He thought the film was actually quite good, but the complex story and specific subject matter made it difficult to predict if it would have a mass following or not. Mary seemed to be in a sullen and reserved mood ever since she came back from Los Angeles, and a positive review would hopefully lift her spirits. It wasn't that she was particularly sad or troubled, but something was just off about her.

 _'Among the several stirring performances, of particular note is Mary Crawley as Pearl. Easily the most hardened soldier of the bunch, Pearl comes across as the angel of vengeance for most of the film's action sequences, but Ms Crawley is able to soften her considerably in the film's quieter moments, including a stirring confession with her fiancé. Her ability to showcase the many roles that these women were forced to play in a time of crisis draws the audience in and makes us want to root for them. While agent Pearl is perhaps a departure from Empress Jade, the character that introduced Ms Crawley to the world, this performance carries forward from her strong turn as Estelle in Paul Chaput's_ Duplicity _, released earlier this year, and is the type of role that many will be surprised she was able to handle so readily.'_

He smiled in relief and pride. The writer wasn't effusive in his praise, but he did single out Mary's performance, which was positive. By choosing to do this film, Mary had turned down the chance to work with Henry in a movie that was sure to be more popular when it opened next year. He knew it was important to her that this movie be a critical success since it was accepted that it would not do as well at the box office as Henry's action movie.

He closed the browser window when he heard the door open and Mary's heels click on the foyer tile.

"Sorry I'm late," she mumbled, taking her shoes off and coming into the living room. "My meetings ran long."

"It happens," he shrugged, getting up out of his chair. She came over and kissed him lightly before taking a seat on the sofa. "How did they go?"

"Fine. They were all preliminary, just getting-to-know-you type of things. I can't say that I was dazzled by any of them. I was late because I was cornered by Xavier on my way out," she muttered, taking out her phone and checking her messages.

"Oh? You just saw him at the premiere," he replied.

"Yes, it just so happened that he was in the building taking meetings on another film," she shook her head. "I made the usual pleasantries, but it took me a while to escape."

"I see," he nodded.

"How was your evening? Did you finally get in touch with Tom?" she asked, not looking up from her screen.

"I did, yes. He's over the moon, of course," he answered.

"Of course. He'd love a boy, wouldn't he?" she noted. "I think Sybil wants another daughter if only to annoy him a bit."

He chuckled knowingly. "That may be true, but that just means he'll try and push for a third."

"I'd like to see him try," she snorted. "I do believe my sister will be quite done after this one. Edith is a safer bet to go for three."

He smiled and went over to sit down next to her. She leaned against him, resting her head against his chest and shoulder as she scrolled through her emails.

"There was a very positive review for you in _Complex_ today," he said, putting his arm around her.

"Mmm, it was quite good, wasn't it?" she agreed. "Hopefully there's a few more and we'll carry some interest into December."

"One can hope," he smiled, kissing the top of her head.

She put her phone down and snuggled against him. "After all, darling, it will be a while before your masterpiece comes out. I'll need all the help I can get to stay relevant until then."

He chuckled and hugged her close. "You're on a nice run right now. The gossip over a _Paladin_ movie will keep your name out there, I'm sure."

"As pathetic as that sounds, it's true," she grumbled. "God, I hope that someone at the studio has the brains to shelve that idea before it goes any further, but the truth is it'll likely make a bit of money, which means it'll get at least a script."

"Well, for the record, I want you to know that I'll support you in whatever you decide," he declared. "As much as working with Henry and Tony will be annoying, if the script is right, it could still be a decent film."

"Yes, but if it is decent, they may not stop with just the one," she rolled her eyes. "If the script is good, yes, of course, I'll consider it. But I can't help but think this will all end up being a glamour project for Henry more than anything else. He's the bankable one. They'll cater to him, just like they always did."

He laughed.

She turned her head and arched her eyebrow at him. "What's so funny?"

He shook his head and smirked at her. "Nothing, darling. I was just thinking of what an absolute calamity it would be if they somehow asked me to direct."

Her eyes widened before her lips curled into a smile. Finally, she laughed right along with him. "Oh, God! Can you just imagine? Oh, darling, that would be fantastic!"

"Henry, I didn't like the way you did that last scene, can you take a few steps back and to the side? We'll shoot the scene with Mary in focus and you speaking from the corner," he said in a formal tone, pretending to give instructions on set.

She laughed and nodded. "Priceless!"

He joined his fingers with hers. "Or, maybe I could audition for a part myself?"

She smiled. "Let me guess. The handsome knight from another realm who arrives to woo the Empress?"

"To woo, indeed," he said thickly, giving her a soft kiss. "The two are soon caught up in a hot, sordid, passionate affair."

She hummed as she kissed him back. "They fuck all over the place, don't they? In the back of her limo, on the boardroom table, even in the Emperor's bed."

"Definitely. They can't keep their hands off each other," he growled, pulling her closer. "They plot to kill both the Emperor and her other suitor, and go on to live happily ever after ruling the Kingdom."

"As good as that plot sounds, it leaves no room for a sequel, does it?" she teased, turning her head to let him feast on her neck.

"Oh, I'm sure I could come up with something," he replied quickly, reaching his hand under her shirt to caress her bare skin.

She laughed sultrily, her hand moving down to stroke him through his shorts. "You know, darling, there is another solution. I could become pregnant, which would get me out of the movie."

He looked at her curiously, his pulse jumping as she continued to fondle him, her eyes playful and bright.

"They could always write that into the story, though," he remarked. "Plus, timing wise, who knows when filming would begin?"

"If I was rather far along, they'd have to pull me from the project," she stated, leaning in to kiss him again. Her hand easily pulled open his shorts and slipped past his underwear to take hold of his warm flesh. "It's not as if I could be riding horses and doing action scenes in such a condition."

"You're overlooking something, darling," he whispered between kisses. "How exactly do you plan on getting pregnant? We haven't discussed any plan for that as of yet."

She chuckled against his lips, licking his mouth mischievously. "I'm quite confident I can talk my husband into cooperating. I expect he's more than eager to get started on our family."

"What makes you say that?" he grunted, lifting up to let her ease his shorts past his hips and bare him fully. "Maybe I want to focus on my career for a while."

"Maybe," she acknowledged. "But I think you'd be open to the idea. You like it, don't you? The thought of filling me with your seed, putting your baby inside me?"

"Mary," he groaned as she stroked him faster.

"Mmm hmm, I do believe you like it very much," she declared, kissing her way up to his ear. "It's the missing piece, isn't it? The last step for you to assert your dominance? If I'm carrying your child, there can be no clearer message that I'm yours, that you've won over all these annoying men who continue to drool over me. Isn't that right?"

He turned and looked at her, their eyes dark with lust. He kissed her hard before removing her top and undoing her bra. He attacked her breasts and she moaned in encouragement, her hand returning to play with his hard length while her other arm held him tight to her chest.

"What about you, darling?" he questioned, kissing his way up to her mouth. His fingers fumbled with her skirt, finally undoing it and pulling it away. "What's in it for you besides getting out of having to play Jade again?"

She gasped as he pushed past her panties and rubbed against her. "Maybe there is a part of me that wants to assert my claim. If you knock me up, you're bound to me forever, aren't you?"

"Yours and no one else's, darling," he kissed her firmly. "Forever."

She bent down and took him into her mouth, moaning around him as his hips thrust towards her.

He ran his hand along her bare back, breathing heavily as she licked him all over before lifting back up.

"Fuck me, darling," she rasped, straddling his legs. "I want all of you deep inside me."

He pulled her panties aside and pushed her down, both of them groaning as she took him. His hands steadied her hips while her arms came across his shoulders. They kissed as she rode him, their tongues fighting sloppily. The pace quickened, the lewd sounds of their bodies moving together filling the room together with their ragged breathing.

She leaned forward until their foreheads touched, their eyes open wide and locked on each other. Her first release was flying towards her, and she worked her hips harder, the ache in her legs only spurring her on.

"Matthew! Fuck yes!" she hissed, her eyes shutting tight as she went over. He kept their rhythm, his grip on her hips firm and commanding. She gasped and choked and finally opened her eyes, her pulse still racing as she felt him swell.

"Do it," she snarled. "Fill me. Knock me up. I want it. I want it!"

He roared and held her down, thrusting up one final time before he unloaded.

She cried out and buried her face in his neck, clutching him close and feeling the heat of him spread through her.

They stayed like that for several moments, both of them struggling to catch their breath. She felt boneless and dazed and just wanted to stay like this for a while longer, with his strong arms around her. They had sex regularly since she returned from Los Angeles, but this felt different, so much better. She turned and kissed his cheek, forcing herself to raise up off of him before trailing kisses down his body.

"Mary," he sighed. "I love you so much."

He groaned when she moved down and put her mouth on him again, his arousal flaring while she cleaned him. Feeling his legs once more, he picked her up smoothly and stood, kissing her while carrying her through to the bedroom and into the bathroom.

They were silent while he ran the shower and removed his shirt. She stepped out of her panties and joined him when the water was hot enough. Hugging him tight, she kissed him while the water soaked them, leaning away from the blast when they were sufficiently rinsed.

"That was hot," he nodded, smiling at her.

She grinned and nodded back. "It definitely was. You were rather domineering."

"I believe you were the one on top, darling," he noted. "You were also the one to come up with that particular fantasy."

She smiled and kissed him lightly. "Darling, it wasn't entirely a fantasy. I do want to have your children. You know that."

"I do, and you know that I'm perfectly happy to wait until you're ready," he replied. "We have plenty of time."

She kissed him and hugged him close.

They finished cleaning up and got out of the shower. He dried himself quickly and wrapped a towel around his waist, leaning against the wall as he watched her fix her hair.

"You all right?" he asked.

She looked at his reflection in the mirror. "I think it should be rather obvious how I'm feeling. I was rather loud."

He smirked. "Yes, but I meant generally. You seem as though you have a lot on your mind."

She looked down. "I do, yes. There's just so much going on with filming and the festival, the meetings, Aunt Rosamund sending me more scripts and this business with the _Paladin_ movie. I feel a touch worn down, that's all."

"It's good to be in-demand, though, isn't it?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose. I just get the feeling that everyone who wants me is after something besides my talent as an actress."

"You're talking about Xavier," he suggested.

She sighed. "It's not just him, and he isn't as nefarious as I perhaps make him seem. Yes, he has rather impure intentions towards me, but I don't believe he's capable of doing anything to hurt me, really. He's just more blatant in his admiration than others."

"And you have more reason to humour him," he stated.

She nodded. "I suppose that I do, yes. But it isn't just him, as I said. Lately, I find that I'm having more trouble looking past those aspects of the business that I used to accept as being the cost of success."

"Such as feeling as though you're just chattel," he nodded.

She shook her head in annoyance. "I know I must sound spoiled to be whinging about all this attention, to say nothing for the fact that I've encouraged it in no small way. Still, after the success of _Duplicity_ , I thought I'd be at another level – that I could focus more on actual acting, rather than charming people into work with me."

"Sadly, my darling, I believe that even the top actresses are required to play that game a little bit," he said. "You are at another level now. You're far removed from who you were when you made _The Muse_."

"Maybe, but the offers I'm getting haven't improved markedly," she sighed. "I'm being impatient in a way, but I honestly thought I was well beyond having to play Jade again. It'll feel like such a step back if that ends up happening."

"Don't think about that," he said kindly, coming over and hugging her from behind. "It's all just talk for now. You've plenty going on besides that."

She smiled and looked at them in the mirror. "Yes, I know I do. I have an amazing husband, and I'm working on an incredible film, although the director is a bit of an ass."

He huffed and tickled her sides, drawing a laugh from her as she wiggled against him.

"I just don't want to look back on my career and feel as if all that I've been through wasn't worth it in the end," she said quietly. "I've always told myself that there was a purpose to everything, that whatever I had to do was to help achieve my goals. I still feel that way, but for the first time I'm beginning to wonder if the payoff will actually justify everything."

"I don't think any of us can know that for sure," he replied. "Most people measure success through money, or maybe fame. You've already got more than enough of both, so it comes down to other things for you. You can't know when you're filming if the movie is going to be a hit or not if you're going to win awards or whatever. None of that is within your control. All you can do is the best work that you can, and find your satisfaction in that."

"I know," she nodded. "And I do still love the work. Spending the summer with you and Denzel, it's been wonderful, really. When I'm on set, everything is perfect, especially since you're there with me. It's everything else – having to deal with meetings and wonder what my next film will be, Aunt Rosamund badgering me – that part of it has become tiresome."

"Well, there's a solution. You could pledge yourself to work with me, and that would fill your calendar for the next while," he smiled.

She turned around to face him and arched her eyebrow. "Is that so? You want me to give you the Paul Chaput treatment, do you? Block off my next three films for you?"

"I should hope that you'll do more for me than you did for him," he said drily.

She laughed and kissed him. "You know what I mean. Are you serious? You'll write and direct projects just for me?"

"I wouldn't be against it," he answered, smiling down at her. "Maybe we'll just find a film that we can both act in together, or maybe we can create something together from scratch. I just think that if you aren't seeing what you like from whatever Aunt Rosamund is sending you, the answer is to build something of your own. At this point in your career, you have enough of a following that you can pull it off."

"Something of my own. Imagine that," she mused. "And would we have our own production company, then? Crawley Creations?"

"Eww, that sounds horrid," he grimaced. "All I'm saying is that you don't have to worry. This isn't years ago when you had to go to Paris because you had no other options. If something appeals to you, then pursue it. If not, we can make do. You don't have to feel as if you're beholden to anyone, that's all."

"Ah, but I will be, won't I?" she teased. "I'll owe my husband."

"Technically, yes, in a small way. But that's better than some idiot at a studio, isn't it?" he replied.

"I don't know. You can be more demanding than most men," she joked.

"Very funny," he retorted sarcastically.

She laughed and hugged him. "Thank you, darling. I used to think that I had to do all this on my own, but now I can't imagine surviving without you on my side."

"Lucky that I am on your side, then," he smiled, rubbing her back. "Now, shall we get dressed?"

"Oh, I don't know. I think I'm ready for bed," she answered.

"Don't you want to put on a shirt, at least?" he asked, following her out of the bathroom.

"Maybe later," she drawled, tossing away her towel and leading him by the hand to bed. "I'm not too worried about keeping warm."


	25. Chapter 25

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, September 12, 2019**

"Eww, that sounds horrid," he grimaced. "All I'm saying is that you don't have to worry. This isn't years ago when you had to go to Paris because you had no other options. If something appeals to you, then pursue it. If not, we can make do. You don't have to feel as if you're beholden to anyone, that's all."

"Ah, but I will be, won't I?" she teased. "I'll owe my husband."

"Technically, yes, in a small way. But that's better than some idiot at a studio, isn't it?" he replied.

"I don't know. You can be more demanding than most men," she joked.

"Very funny," he retorted sarcastically.

She laughed and hugged him. "Thank you, darling. I used to think that I had to do all this on my own, but now I can't imagine surviving without you on my side."

"Lucky that I am on your side, then," he smiled, rubbing her back. "Now, shall we get dressed?"

"Oh, I don't know. I think I'm ready for bed," she answered.

"Don't you want to put on a shirt, at least?" he asked, following her out of the bathroom.

"Maybe later," she drawled, tossing away her towel and leading him by the hand to bed. "I'm not too worried about keeping warm."

 **Chapter 25:**

 **FRANK Restaurant, Art Gallery of Ontario, Downtown Toronto, Canada, October 19, 2019**

"If you want to leave early, you can," Matthew advised, pulling Sybil closer to whisper in her ear. "Dinner was the highlight, really."

She frowned and nudged him in the ribs. "No fucking way! I came up for the party. Besides, I'm not tired, and you don't have to feel so protective. I'm barely three months along."

"Well, I just don't want you getting nauseous all over this nice floor, that's all," he joked, keeping his arm around her shoulders.

"I'll be sure to aim for your shirt if I do," she shot back. "See how well Armani stands up to that."

He grimaced and kissed her on the top of the head before taking another sip of water.

"Darling, come on!" Mary called, coming over and taking his free hand. "You have to make a speech!"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Oh, most definitely!" Sybil chimed in, giving him a shove. "You're the man of the hour and everyone is waiting with bated breath to hear from you."

He shot her a glare, which didn't faze her at all. Turning to his wife, he kissed her hand and gave her his most adorable pout. "Must I?"

"You must," Mary nodded, patting his cheek. "You're the director and star. Go on, everyone wants to hear some stirring words."

"I don't think I'm the first name on the title, actually," he pointed out, leaning in towards her. "Come up with me?"

"No," she laughed. "It's all you."

He huffed and gave her a quick kiss. "I was afraid you would say that."

She smiled and sent him off towards the staircase that separated the two levels of the restaurant. They had rented out the entire place for the wrap party for _Damocles_ and after a sumptuous meal, the cast and crew were now milling about over drinks on the main floor, with a DJ playing upbeat dance music on the second level. On a motion from Matthew, the music quieted down, and everyone automatically looked up at him standing above them.

"Erm, hi everyone," he waved nervously.

"Speech! Speech!" they all shouted, laughing, clapping and raising their drinks in the air.

"Right, well, apparently this is the part where I, your fearless leader, gives you some words of wisdom," he began. "I haven't won anything and this isn't an awards show so I'll try and be brief."

Oohs and aahs mixed in with the laughter before everyone went silent.

"I just want to say thank you more than anything," he continued. "I think I've talked to each one of you already tonight, but if I haven't, it's an open bar and we've got the place all night so come and see me."

Cheers went up from the crowd. Mary shared a knowing smirk with Anna as they stood by and watched Matthew laughing and holding his hand up to quell the crowd.

"It's been quite a summer for all of us," he smiled. "For those you of you who were with me on _10 Days_ , you remember how we filmed that one in just over a month. We filmed through the rain, overnight, with cars honking at us in the background and people yelling and whatever. We did anything and everything we could to finish on time. This production wasn't as urgent, and therefore went a lot more smoothly, and that's thanks to all of you, so thank you."

Polite applause rang out before they stopped to let him go on.

"It's always a funny thing when you wrap on a project. We spend months together being like a family and now we're all going off on our separate ways. Nature of the business and all that. I wish all of you the very best in your next projects. I do hope that someday we'll work together again. Who knows? If I do a shit job of editing this movie, I may be begging one of you for a job next year," he shrugged.

Mary shared a wry smirk with Sybil and Anna while everyone else laughed.

"So, again thank you to all of you for being a part of _Damocles_. Seriously, I'm really looking forward to finishing it up. I know we've got some really incredible stuff that we've shot, and it's going to be great, I think. We're looking at a March release so watch out for that next year. Hopefully, we'll see everyone at the premiere."

His eyes found Mary across the room.

"Umm, and one last thing. Our incredible lead actor, Mr Denzel Washington over here, once said something in a speech that has stuck with me ever since, something that everyone should hear and know," Matthew noted, raising his glass to Denzel.

"Oh, no! What did I say now?" Denzel laughed, shaking his head.

Matthew chuckled. "He said about this business, 'never give up. Fall down seven times, get up eight.'"

A smile crossed Denzel's lips as he nodded in recognition. The rest of the room became eerily quiet, all eyes locked on Matthew, who's gaze stayed on his wife.

Mary swallowed, not taking her eyes off of him.

"He said 'ease is a greater threat to progress than hardship'" Matthew stated, pausing to let the words sink in. "I was someone who struggled for a very long time. I wondered if I was ever going to get a decent paying job. I never even dreamed I would ever get a lead role or direct. I did commercials and musicals, considered dabbling in the porn industry when I was really desperate…"

Mary and Sybil both howled at that one, along with everyone else.

"I know what hardship is all about, and now that I'm where I am today, I'm most glad that it wasn't easy, that it still isn't easy," Matthew nodded. "So, keep going, everyone, and if it seems hard, you must be on the right track. Have a great night."

The room exploded in cheers and applause as Matthew sheepishly went back down the stairs. He accepted hugs, high-fives and slaps on the back on his way to Mary, Sybil and the others. Denzel came over and gave him a long hug, whispering in his ear before letting him go. Finally, he returned to his wife, who greeted him with a warm kiss.

"Goodness. That was quite moving," she teased.

"That was good, mate," Tom agreed, shaking Matthew's hand. "I can't believe you can come up with that stuff off the top of your head."

"He probably had someone write it for him," Alex joked, standing next to Anna. "Did anyone see if there were cue cards or a teleprompter anywhere?"

Matthew scoffed.

"I thought it was brilliant," Mary smiled, kissing him again. "Easily the best wrap party speech I've ever heard."

"That's a rather low standard to beat, but I'll take it," Matthew smiled.

* * *

With Matthew's speech out of the way, the party moved on to dancing and more drinks. There was a steady train between the bar and the small dance floor, with the rest of the guests huddled together in groups on the banquettes to gossip and laugh. Near midnight, Matthew had the restaurant staff distribute the wrap presents to everyone, small tokens for the cast and crew to take with them as keepsakes of the production.

"That's so cute!" Sybil noted, examining the Canada Goose vest with the movie logo, filming dates and location stitched on the front. "You got everyone's size?"

"We guessed mostly," Matthew shrugged. "They can exchange them if it doesn't fit. Most productions give out t-shirts, hoodies, stuff like that. I wanted to do something a bit different. It helps remind people that we filmed here, and isn't just a knickknack to be forgotten in a drawer somewhere."

The room grew increasingly louder as everyone laughed and tried on their vests.

"Well, that's it for me, I think," Sybil declared, coming over and kissing Matthew. "Congratulations, darling."

"Thanks for coming," Matthew smiled. "We'll come up and grab you for lunch tomorrow."

"Just don't make it too early," Sybil warned.

Matthew gave Tom a hug before letting him take his pregnant wife away and back to Anna and Alex's place.

"Where's Anna?" Matthew asked, looking over at Alex. "I thought she'd be ready to turn in as well."

"No, she's good for another hour or two," Alex shook his head. "We put the twins to bed at the same time that Emily went down. The night nurse can handle the feedings so she's not leaving yet. This is the first time she's been out with Mary in a while."

"Right," Matthew nodded.

He looked out across the floor and spotted his wife. She was laughing and taking selfies with cast and crew members, all of them wearing their new vests. Her face was lit up, her smile bright. There seemed to be a procession of people wanting to give her a hug, share a drink, and take a photo. She accommodated them all, Anna poised at the ready to serve as photographer or to jump into the shot when called upon.

"Mary's really in her element at these things, eh?" Alex noted, sipping his Coke.

"When it comes to parties, she's not shy," Matthew agreed. "She's more well-known among this lot than I am because of _Paladin_ , and she's not as intimidating as Denzel, so everyone is at ease talking to her."

"I don't know about that first part. You're pretty popular," Alex replied.

"Yes, but in a different way. Anyway, I'm their boss. She's not," Matthew explained.

"So they get to live out their little Empress Jade fantasies by cosying up to her?" Alex questioned.

"Basically," Matthew nodded. "It's still the role she's most well known for. How many times do you see her described in reviews or articles as ' _Paladin_ 's Mary Crawley'? Even today it happens more often than not."

"And it doesn't bother you," Alex remarked, watching as a burly looking crewman picked a laughing Mary up off the floor and held her in his arms while taking a selfie.

"It's all harmless. They all know she's married and a fair number of the lads here are gay," Matthew shook his head. "She's just humouring them for the most part. You know Mary. It's all for show."

"And what if it wasn't all harmless?" Alex probed. "From their side I mean."

"I had to put up with Henry and Tony, remember? When it's more of an obsession than just admiration, it does bother me to a degree," Matthew conceded. "But there's no point getting angry about it. What do you do about all the gardeners who stare at Anna when she's lounging in her bikini by the pool?"

"Fire them," Alex shrugged.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately, I can't fire everyone who thinks my wife is attractive. There'd be no one left to work on my movies, not to mention I'd have a beef with most of the industry and hundreds of thousands online."

"Yeah, and most of France, apparently," Alex nodded.

Matthew frowned at him before taking a sip of his drink.

"Do you think it will ever change?" Alex asked, watching Mary again. "Will there come a time when she doesn't have so many admirers?"

"I highly doubt it," Matthew replied. "That's like asking me if I think there will come a time when Mary isn't beautiful and talented. I think you can figure out what my answer will be to that one."

Alex smiled and nodded. "True."

"It's not as if she asks for it," Matthew noted. "She doesn't invite these men to leer at her. She has it far worse off than I do. She's the one who has to put up with them."

"I didn't say she brought it on herself, just like I don't think Anna invites it either," Alex clarified. "I just remember what I felt, what I still feel, when I think about that motherfucker and what he planned for my wife. I don't know if I could stand it if there were legions of him."

"Mary doesn't have anyone nearly as fucked up as…him…after her," Matthew replied. "The business we're in puts us in situations where we work closely with people. Every project we do has a new love interest and thousands of new fans that could come out of it. I have to trust her, just as she trusts me."

"You could always take a break and follow her to her next project," Alex suggested.

"I could," Matthew agreed. "But I can't do that forever. I have to be secure enough to let her out of my sight, otherwise what kind of marriage will we really have?"

"Just like I did when Anna used to go away on business trips with Mary all the time," Alex nodded. "I suppose this is the price of having such incredible wives, accepting how beautiful they are – inside and out – and not getting insecure about it."

Matthew laughed. "Being controlling isn't the answer. Besides, we must keep calm so that they'll keep us around, as well."

The best friends looked at each other knowingly and tapped fists before taking another drink. They watched on as the revelry continued all around them, showing no signs of abating.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, October 29, 2019**

"Mmm, that's lovely," Mary sighed, leaning back and resting her head on the cushioned edge of the hot tub. "I don't know how you resist the urge to just sit in here all day."

"It's tempting, but I tend to prune after a while," Anna replied, stretching her arms out as the bubble jets stirred up a froth around her. "I do like it better than a soak in the bath, though."

"So much better," Mary agreed, smiling and closing her eyes. "Matthew wants to put an infinity tub in the master bathroom whenever we get a house. I've been objecting to it, but I could be convinced."

Anna laughed. "What's going on with that? Are you house hunting again?"

Mary nodded. "We're back to wondering where we're going to live. I think I'm leaning towards London. I had such a great time filming there and just getting to live there again for a few months. It sort of reminded me of how it's still home."

"Well, I hate to see you go, but I can understand what you're saying," Anna nodded.

Mary opened her eyes and smiled at her best friend. "You'll be back to visit. Besides, I expect to work more often in North America going forward, so we'll be here a fair bit."

"Have you decided on your next project yet?" Anna asked.

Mary shook her head, her eyes dropping to stare at the water vacantly. "I promised myself I would take the rest of the year off, which is why I have time to think about things like house hunting. I haven't seen anything that's grabbed me thus far."

"What have you seen?" Anna prompted.

Mary sighed. "Paul's period film, mainly. It's quite interesting, but I don't know if I'm up for it. I can't see it doing better than _Duplicity_ , and doing two war movies so close together seems strange."

"And the _Paladin_ film?" Anna continued.

"Still just a rumour, thank God," Mary grumbled. "I did hear from the studio. They asked me to hold some dates just in case the thing goes ahead. I had Aunt Rosamund give them a vague answer for now. Technically, my next year is wide open at the moment, so it isn't as if I'm lying."

"But you won't do it," Anna noted.

"Not if I can help it," Mary replied. "I've come up with a solution, though. I'm going to ask to be paid the same as Henry and Tony and we'll see what the answer is."

"That's clever," Anna agreed.

Mary nodded. "It'll give me a defence against the backlash from fans if I don't end up being in it. If they capitulate and meet my demands, well, I suppose I'll have to do it then, but at least I won't be completely taken advantage of."

Anna smiled sympathetically.

"You know, I never used to be much of a crusader for things like that. I was always paid less than the men, but I was invariably richer than all of them anyway, so I didn't particularly care. Even when I worked in France, I wasn't paid more than Vincent, for example, though I did make more than Jimmy. On _Duplicity_ , I was paid a bit less than the others, even though it was essentially my film,"

"The scale was lower as well," Anna added. "The French pay less than here."

"Exactly," Mary nodded. "Sam made sure we were all paid the same, but it was a mostly female ensemble, so not really comparable."

"Matthew didn't pay you less than he paid himself though, surely?" Anna questioned.

Mary smiled. "He paid me more than Denzel."

Anna laughed incredulously. "He didn't!"

Mary nodded. "He paid me more upfront and our percentages on the back end are the same. Matthew's only taking a cut of the profit, so really he's paying himself last."

"Shit," Anna shook her head. "That's progressive of him."

"It is," Mary acknowledged. "And it's not just because I'm his wife. Rooney took a pay cut to be in _10 Days_ , but he didn't take a salary at all, so technically she made more than him. He got most of the back end, of course, but she still got a cut of that as well."

"He should have promoted that more. I never heard anything about it," Anna commented.

"You know him. He doesn't like to draw attention to himself. I think he learned from when he and Rick made more than Natalie and me on _Shattered_. Anyway, it's only recently that he's been in a position to actually do something about equal pay."

Anna nodded.

"So that's where I got the idea to demand equal pay on _Paladin_. With Henry winning all the awards in the beginning, I never felt I had the leverage to demand parity with him, and when they brought Tony in, I was still on my previous contract. Now, though, I can honestly say that they need me more than I need them."

Anna smiled. "How novel."

"Isn't it just?" Mary laughed. "A part of me almost hopes they say no."

"I wonder if you can put a price on having to work with Henry and Tony again, though," Anna mused.

Mary rolled her eyes. "It'll be ghastly, to be certain. It's not as if the money will make up for anything, but it's something."

"How will Matthew react, do you think?" Anna asked.

"If I end up doing the movie? He'll be livid, of course," Mary shook her head. "He understands the position I'm in, though. I'm going to ask him to come with me. Hopefully, he won't be filming something else and we can at least live together during the production."

"Odds are good it will be filmed here, since the series was," Anna remarked.

"True. Anyway, it's all rumours for now. Hopefully, it sits on the shelf for a while and all I have to do is smile during interviews and say how I'm crossing my fingers that it works out or something similarly vapid," Mary smirked.

Anna laughed and reached for her water bottle.

"Anna, I wanted to ask you," Mary began. "Are you quite sure that you want to come back to work?"

Anna blinked. "Yes, of course. Why would you think otherwise?"

Mary smiled. "Well, we aren't twentysomethings anymore, leaving home to head out on a grand adventure. You've got a home here and a husband and a family. I would certainly understand if you wanted to devote yourself to them rather than follow me around to God knows where."

"You think you'll survive with Ivy, do you?" Anna smiled.

"Most likely not," Mary rolled her eyes. "She means well, but she's not you obviously. Still, I don't want you to feel as if you owe me anything because you most certainly do not. You're my best friend and always will be. You don't need to be my assistant if you don't want to be."

"If Alex was here he'd be screaming for me to gracefully step aside," Anna laughed.

"Yes, I can literally hear his voice in my head," Mary nodded.

"I don't think I'm meant to be a stay-at-home mum honestly," Anna smiled. "I'm lucky that I have that choice, but I've been working since I was a teenager, and I can't see myself stopping now. Besides, this is an exciting time for you in your career and in your life and I want to be a part of it. I sort of miss all the awards ceremonies and parties."

Mary laughed. "Well, we'll be going to more of those for Matthew than for me, I expect."

"Don't be so sure. I heard a rumour that you're being mentioned for Cannes next year," Anna replied.

"If only half of these rumours were true," Mary sighed. "All right. I won't pretend that I don't miss you desperately as it is. Let's at least wait until the New Year, or even when I have my next project sorted. I know Alex was set on you taking the entire year off after the twins were born so let's not cut it that short if we can help it."

"Deal," Anna smiled. "I do want to wait until after their birthday, to be honest. It's amazing how much more they can do now. They're almost crawling, well, more like scooting and rolling. I sort of can't wait for them to walk, and am dreading it at the same time."

"I can't get over how grown up Emily is," Mary shook her head. "To have her actually able to say entire words now, and her attitude! It's like she's a little Sybil, honestly."

"No wonder Tom wants a boy so badly," Anna laughed.

Mary smiled and leaned back. The sun shone overhead, and though it wasn't particularly warm out, the water more than made up for it.

 **Cumberland Terrace, Regent's Park, London, England, December 2, 2019**

"Three of the bedrooms have ensuite baths, including the Master, of course. There's no infinity tub yet, but we can have one installed," Mary smiled, leading the way through the house. "What I really like are the views of the park – they're just gorgeous – and we'd have our own garage."

"Are you getting a commission from the agent or something?" Matthew joked, squeezing her hand as they went. "It's a gorgeous home, and it should be for 16 million quid."

"I think we can knock that down a bit. The home's been vacant for a year and we're giving them a quick closing so we can get settled before we leave for California," she smirked. "Here's our bedroom. It takes up the entire second floor."

He glanced around, walking through the immense space and through to the dressing room.

"This will be all yours, I assume?" he smiled.

"You can have a corner if you like," she replied.

He shook his head and went into the ensuite. Double vanities were on one side before a large mirror, with the spacious shower taking up the opposite wall. A large tub dominated the far side.

"There are three bedrooms upstairs," she continued, coming up and hugging him from behind. "So the children would have their own space, and we'd keep our privacy."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "You always bring up children when you want me to agree to something."

"I do not," she protested, kissing him quickly. "I'm just being practical, and thinking of the future."

"If you're thinking of the future, shouldn't we have more bedrooms?" he asked.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "And how many children do you expect me to give you, may I ask?"

"Well, no more than three, apparently," he shrugged. "Although I suppose they could share if we have more."

"Let's stick to one or two to start," she suggested. "I'm surprised you're so enthusiastic after Kingsley's little tantrum yesterday."

"It wasn't little," he grumbled. "Anyway, we're speaking in hypotheticals, so I'm envisioning a house full of children."

"Well, so long as it's hypothetical, and so long as it's this house," she retorted.

He smiled and turned around, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. "You want this house, do you?"

"I really do," she nodded.

"I suppose I can't object. If I did, you could just buy it without me," he chuckled.

"Who's to say I haven't?" she teased. "I'm just putting on a show to make you feel like you had some input."

He laughed and kissed her softly. "Can we at least pretend that I put up some resistance?"

She hummed as he moved to her neck. "Mmm, and I had to convince you, did I?"

"You most certainly did," he whispered against her skin, inhaling her perfume. "I was quite difficult."

She laughed sultrily and circled her hips slowly against him. "Well, how about this? You agree to buy this house and I will agree to christen the rooms with you?"

His head snapped up and he looked at her carefully. "Even the kitchen?"

She grinned. "Even the kitchen."

"All five bedrooms?" he continued, kissing her again.

"Of course," she answered.

"The wine cellar…" he added, his tongue slipping past her lips. "The dining room…the plant room…the terrace…"

"Not the terrace…we have neighbours…" she sighed, reaching between them to fondle him.

"Fine, not the terrace," he confirmed. "Very well, darling. Have Brandon put in an offer."

"I love it when we make decisions together," she drawled, kissing him fiercely.

They eventually disentangled and made their way back downstairs to the ground floor. Mary grinned with delight. Coming back to London appealed to her the more she thought about it. This house was a fair bit away from Painswick House in Eaton Square, and she liked that. It felt as though it was a proper beginning for them here, establishing themselves separate and apart from her family and standing alone. As much as she was intrigued to live in New York, Los Angeles or Toronto, London was home, and it felt right to return here, to the city where they first lived together as a couple so long ago, and go forward.

"I do actually like this house, you know," he smiled when they reached the front door. "I'd live anywhere as long as it was with you, but this is a very nice place for us."

"I know, and thank you," she replied, taking his hand. "And this isn't just some place for us to live in between jobs. I'm going to make it our home, truly. You're going to love it."

"I already do," he nodded before escorting her outside.

 **ODEON Leicester Square, Leicester Square, London, England, December 11, 2019**

"And you must be so very proud!"

Matthew smiled at Mary before turning to answer the breathless reporter.

"I'm always proud of everything she does," he nodded. "This film is quite incredible, and she's incredible in it. I really enjoyed it and I'm looking forward to seeing it again."

The reporter nodded and turned back to Mary. "This is a bit of a celebration for both of you, isn't it? Your premiere, of course, and Matthew with another Golden Globe nomination announced just this week."

Mary leaned into Matthew slightly and nodded. "Yes, it's been a wonderful week. I think that this year especially it means so much because _10 Days_ is his directorial debut, so there's that added personal side of it as well. That's how I felt about working with Sam and so many talented women. It was more than just another project for me, and to be here, at home, with all these people. It's wonderful."

Ivy nudged Mary to move her along. They said their goodbyes to the reporter and continued down the red carpet, pausing to pose for photographers and do more interviews. Compared to the understated screening in Toronto, this was altogether different. It wasn't as big a turnout as she received for _Duplicity_ , but the crowd was sizeable and vocal.

"Mary! Matthew! This way! To your left! Left, please!"

Smiling, they turned together, ignoring the bright flashes as best they could.

"Kiss! Kiss! Could we have a kiss please?"

Matthew smirked. He wasn't bothered by such requests, as bizarre as it was for the paparazzi to demand that he kiss his wife. Still, he knew Mary was in professional mode at these things, so he didn't bother acknowledging it.

"Darling, they want us to kiss," she whispered, turning to smile at him.

He smiled at her in surprise. "Yes, but I just thought that you wouldn't want to."

"Well I do," she smirked mischievously. "Go on and give them something to talk about."

Matthew grinned before reaching up and caressing her cheek. He drew her in, then closed the remaining distance and pressed a light kiss to her lips, holding her touch for a few seconds before releasing her.

"How was that?" he joked.

"Worked for me," she arched her eyebrow at him before they turned back for more photos.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, December 25, 2019**

"Look! It's another present for Emma!" Robert exclaimed, looking at his granddaughter with wide eyes as he bestowed yet more gifts before her. The child laughed and began tearing into the wrapping paper.

"We really don't even need to be here, do we?" Sybil noted, shaking her head.

"Just be happy that she's sitting still for once," Tom noted, relaxing next to his wife on the sofa.

"Next year we can just drop the children off and pick them up after New Year's," Edith joked, smiling at Bertie while they watched Kingsley sitting on the floor with Isobel. Their son stared at his cousin with great interest while she opened her Christmas gifts, his own haul of new clothes, toys and books scattered all around him.

"Well I still believe in having a proper family Christmas," Mary declared. "I put quite a bit of thought into all of your presents, thank you."

"It never ceases to amaze me how you can make generosity sound so competitive," Matthew noted, giving her a wry smile.

"Careful, you," Mary warned. "There's still presents waiting back at home that I can always rescind."

"How? Santa knows what a nice boy I've been this year, surely?" Matthew joked, pulling her back against him.

"You may have fooled him, but not me," Mary replied archly before allowing him a quick kiss.

Sybil and Edith shared a knowing smile.

"Will you be able to come back for the housewarming, Sybil?" Mary asked, smiling at her sister.

"Actually, we will be," Sybil nodded, smiling at Tom. "We're going on a bit of a trip in March and we're dropping off Emma here so the timing is great. Tom's taking me to Italy for my push present."

"We're also stopping in to see my family in Ireland," Tom replied, looking at Sybil pointedly. "It isn't all about you. I want to show Aedan his homeland while he's still in the womb."

"And I want to make sure that Audrey experiences a country with some actual culture and edible food," Sybil countered.

Mary and Edith looked at each other and laughed.

"I think we'll all be relieved when you have your ultrasound next month," Bertie smiled. "The suspense is killing us."

"Literally," Edith added. "You two bicker about whether you're having a boy or girl more than any other couple we know."

"We'll see if I let him find out the results or not," Sybil shrugged.

Tom frowned.

"Muh…muh…"

"Hello, Kingsley," Mary beamed, sitting forward and holding her arms out as Isobel brought the infant waddling over. "What have you got there?"

"Muh…muh…" Kingsley squealed, dropping a stuffed horse onto Mary's lap.

"A horse! How lovely!" Mary smiled, taking the toy and waving it in front of her nephew's face. Kingsley laughed and reached out his pudgy hands in response.

"We show him photos of Auntie Mary all the time," Edith explained, smiling at her son. "He's even seen the both of you on the telly."

"He happened to be playing nearby when a rerun of _Paladin_ came on," Bertie added. "We had to change the channel before he noticed Auntie Mary gutting a man with her sword."

"Better he see that than some of the other antics Auntie Mary gets up to in that show," Sybil pointed out, smirking at her sister.

"Auntie Sybil is about to get herself uninvited from the housewarming, Kingsley, isn't she? Yes, she is!" Mary cooed to the baby.

Sybil rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll have Matthew invite me instead."

"Don't get me in trouble," Matthew scoffed. He looked up at his mother. "Mother, sit down, please. You've been running around with the children all morning."

"Oh, I'm fine. Well, all right," Isobel nodded, taking her son's seat next to Mary.

Mary picked up Kingsley and placed him on her lap. "Sweetheart, your horse needs a name. What shall we call him? What about Diamond? That's a wonderful name for a horse."

"Diamond was Mary's horse when she was growing up," Edith advised Bertie. "She loved that animal."

"She loved him more than me," Matthew deadpanned, looking over at Bertie knowingly.

"She still does," Mary interjected, giving her husband a pointed look before going back to playing with her nephew.

"Let's go and get some tea. Mother?" Matthew offered, glancing over at Tom.

"Thank you, Matthew," Isobel nodded, smiling as she watched her daughter-in-law entertain Kingsley.

Tom rose from his seat and accompanied Matthew over to the bar where an electric kettle was always available. Taking out a tray and enough cups, Matthew went about preparing the pot.

"Italy, eh?" Matthew smiled, looking over at Tom. "Didn't you make do with a set of earrings when Sybil was pregnant with Emma?"

"That was then. This is now," Tom shrugged, shaking his head glumly. "It's costing us a fortune, but what are you going to do? At least I get off work for two weeks."

"Yes, such a burden, having to take your wife on a European vacation while your daughter is being taken care of by the grandparents," Matthew joked. "The struggle, man, the struggle."

"Hey. Fuck off, yeah?" Tom frowned. "We can't all take our wives to the Golden Globes and all that fancy shit you toffs do."

Matthew laughed and filled the pot.

"I give you credit for getting Mary back to London, though," Tom smiled. "I thought you'd be living in the Hollywood Hills or somewhere like that."

"So did I, to be honest," Matthew smirked. "The house is absurdly overpriced, but so is all of London. I'm chuffed that we're back, actually. It sort of feels like our own space finally, you know? I don't have to share her. L.A., New York, even Toronto, they're all industry cities. London is different. It feels like it's just ours."

"Well, I was holding out hope that you'd come to New York, or at least settle close by in Toronto," Tom nodded. "But I hear you. It was the same when I convinced Sybil to move to Brooklyn and got her away from here."

Matthew smiled and nodded, arranging everything on the tray.

"I was ordered to come and see what was taking you so long," Bertie admitted, holding his hands up when he approached. "Either that or I was sent away so they could talk about us."

"Highly unlikely," Matthew smirked. "They don't care enough about us to gossip behind our backs."

"Truer words were never spoken," Tom nodded. "Sybil just says it to my face."

Bertie smiled and fetched two bottles of water from the fridge for him and Edith.

"How is Mary's film doing?" Bertie asked. "I haven't asked Edith about it since the premiere."

"It crossed $50 million worldwide this past week," Matthew nodded. "It might break 100 by the time it's finished its run in a few months. I think it has an outside chance at a BAFTA nomination, but it's impossible to predict these things."

"So that would make it two good showings in a row for her including that last one, yeah?" Tom noted.

Matthew nodded. "It would. Just in time for my movie to let her down when it comes out in March."

Bertie chuckled. "I think you're a pretty decent bet. How is that coming along? The trailer last week was fantastic."

"Thanks," Matthew replied. "I'm pretty much done. I'm at the point now where if I keep looking at it, I'll just tweak small things over and over again forever. I'm probably going to tell the studio that it's ready when we get to Los Angeles. We're doing press in February and it'll all finally be done."

"Matthew, is the tea ready?" Isobel called from across the room.

Matthew shared a knowing glance with Tom before picking up the tray and turning back towards the ladies. "Coming, Mother."

* * *

"Come in," Mary called, rubbing lotion into her hands.

The bedroom door opened and Cora came in, smiling at her eldest daughter before closing the door and taking a seat nearby on the bed.

"Hello, Mummy," Mary smiled. "Today was lovely, wasn't it?"

"It was," Cora nodded. "Emma and Kingsley are so precious."

"They are," Mary agreed, putting her cream away.

"Kingsley seems to have taken to you," Cora remarked. "He was attached to you all afternoon."

"Clearly, he has exceptional taste," Mary smirked. "Besides, anything to get a respite from his mother, I'm sure."

Cora shook her head. "Edith is a wonderful mother, and so is Sybil."

"Yes, yes, they are," Mary huffed. "Is this going to be another lecture?"

"No, I promised your father that I wouldn't nag you during your stay," Cora confessed.

Mary arched her eyebrow and looked at her pointedly.

"Well, I promised him that I wouldn't nag you about babies," Cora clarified.

Mary smiled ruefully.

"Darling, I do want you to know that I, well, your father and I, we're very proud of you," Cora began.

"Oh, God, please don't act all American on me now," Mary whinged.

"You're half American," Cora retorted. "Honestly, darling, we are so very proud of you. I thought you were quite good in _Duplicity_ and you're brilliant in the new movie. It's honestly some of the strongest work you've ever done."

Mary smiled and looked down at her lap. "Thank you."

"Matthew tells me that you're incredible in his new film also," Cora noted.

"Oh, he's rather biased, isn't he?" Mary grinned. "I did have a great time, though. Denzel is incredible to work with, and Matthew's grown so much since we did _Shattered_ together."

"How was he as a director?" Cora asked.

"Don't tell him I said so, but he was fantastic," Mary nodded. "He's very hands-off, sort of lets you go wherever you want with a scene, but still keeps everything moving forward. He had this remarkable ability to gauge the mood of the set, knowing when to lighten things up, when to be more firm with everyone. I literally felt completely free to try anything."

Cora smiled. "I never would have envisioned him being a director all those years ago."

"None of us did, including him," Mary laughed. "I always knew he was clever, but this is an entirely different level altogether."

"Good for him, and good for you. The future is so bright for the both of you. I honestly think that your Granny would be so proud of you, and not only for your career. She loved Matthew," Cora said warmly.

"She did," Mary nodded. "I always used to think she was so old-fashioned when she pushed me to marry him, but I think she saw something in him. I think she knew it would be good for me professionally and personally if we were together."

"She knew you were strong enough to make it on your own," Cora added. "But she also knew it so much more incredible to be able to share it all with someone you love."

"I just wish she were here to see it," Mary sniffled. "Goodness, now you're making me all sentimental."

Cora smiled knowingly and rose from the bed. She reached over and patted her daughter's shoulder.

Mary reached up and squeezed her hand.

"Good night, darling," Cora beamed.

"Good night, Mum," Mary nodded.

* * *

"I thought you'd be in here."

Isobel looked away from Violet's portrait and smiled as Matthew came into the drawing room. He joined her on the sofa and gave her a kiss.

"You should be upstairs with your wife," she scolded him lightly.

"She understood," he replied. "It's a difficult time for her also."

"It's only been two years, and yet it feels like much longer," Isobel sighed, looking back up at the Dowager Countess' painting on the wall. "I still wake up and wonder why her side of the bed is empty."

He put his arm around her shoulders. "I know."

"It's quite ridiculous of me considering how much more comfortable it is to have the extra room," she shook her head. "She always took up far more than her share, you know."

He smiled.

"I had a bit of a moment today. I was forced to tell her that she was right yet again," she sniffed. "She told me that Mary would make a wonderful mother, and I always disagreed. Seeing her with Kingsley today, and with Emily, well, I had to concede the point, which thrilled her to no end I am quite sure."

He chuckled. "She always did believe in Mary, more than anyone, including Mary herself sometimes."

"I don't know if it was that she saw more of herself in Mary than any of the other girls, or she was able to see through the tough exterior to her true spirit. Regardless, she was right. Mary is outstanding with children. They gravitate to her, which is remarkable since they don't get to spend very much time with her at all," she explained.

"She can be remarkably soft when she wants to be. They probably pick up on that," he suggested.

"Mmm," she agreed.

They sat together for several moments, looking up at Violet's image, the painting somehow capturing the precise combination of intimidation and sophistication that she exuded in life.

"Would you ever consider coming to stay with us in London?" he asked softly. "The house is quite big, you know, and you love Regent's Park."

"I do," she sighed. "You have a lovely home, but my place is here."

"I just worry about you, Mother. This place is so big and it's just you, Cora and Robert," he mumbled.

"We've actually become quite close, Cora and I," she stated, shaking her head. "We walk every day, and she involves me in her various charities and such. I even spend a fair amount of time with Robert now. Cora doesn't have the patience to play chess with him, so that's my job."

"I hear that he hates losing to you," he smiled.

"He does," she laughed. "But he keeps at it. He's like his mother that way. He never just gives up and leaves in a huff."

She closed her eyes and wiped a tear from her cheek.

He hugged her closer.

"This is home," she declared. "I love it here. Every room has memories of her, even the trees and fields remind me of her. I'm keeping busy and I actually enjoy what I'm doing."

"Isobel Crawley, Lady of Downton Abbey," he joked.

She laughed. "Who would have imagined? Your father is aghast, surely."

"Oh, I think he's having a good laugh over it, but he would approve," he nodded. "Whatever makes you happy."

She patted his knee. "Thank you, my dear boy. Now, go on up and be with your wife. She needs you more than I do."

"Just a little while longer," he whispered, looking up at Violet's fierce eyes. "I'd like some time with Violet, too."

Isobel smiled and relaxed against him.

 **HBO Party, Circa 55 Restaurant, The Beverly Hilton, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 5, 2020**

"I'm just going to go and grab another drink," Mary said, tugging on Matthew's arm to get his attention.

"I'll come with you," he answered.

She smirked, nodding towards the crowd of people gathered around him and Rooney. "No, that's fine. Stay here. I think I saw Gwen around so I'll just go and say hi."

He nodded and was pulled back into the fray before he could say anything more. She turned and weaved her way past the tables and around the dance floor to reach one of the bars.

Tonight had started out brilliantly. She and Matthew received loud cheers when they arrived on the red carpet dressed in matching Armani. Though most of the questions were about his nominations for Best Actor and Best Director, she did get a few thrown her way about how her coming year was shaping up after two well-received films in the past few months. It gave her the chance to not only talk about _Ungentlemanly Behaviour_ again, but also to mention _Damocles_ a little bit. There was already a buzz about their film, both because it was Matthew's next release after _10 Days_ and because there was naturally always interest when a real-life couple worked together on screen.

Most of the night was spent catching up with friends, laughing, drinking and celebrating the award winners. She truly appreciated getting to attend these shows now, particularly since she wasn't nominated herself. Other actresses were having to get dressed up to go to a watch party somewhere across the city and pretend that they were enjoying themselves just so they could be seen and have their photos hopefully splashed across the entertainment websites. She was one of the privileged few who were invited to the ceremony and all of the after-parties and was guaranteed valuable airtime on the red carpet shows and online. For one night at least, she was among the industry elite, and she savoured every moment.

Anna texted her through the evening to let her know when she had made it on television. Of course, when Matthew was shown on screen, so was she, but there were other moments where the camera panned over to them, to show them laughing at one of the host's jokes, or to see their reaction when a fellow Brit won an award. It was as though, after several years, she finally figured out how to play the game at these things, and she was loving every second.

Until it all changed.

 _10 Days_ enjoyed 3 nominations – Rooney and Matthew for acting and Matthew for directing. For a small budget film from a first-time director, being nominated was already an incredible accomplishment. Matthew downplayed his chances, as usual, and Mary didn't hold any expectations either. Between the sterling box office returns and the nominations, his film was a smashing success already.

Then Rooney shocked everyone and went and won the gong for Best Actress in a Motion Picture – Drama.

They were all sitting at the same table and it was as though time stood still when Rooney's name was called out. Her eyes bulged out of her head and her mouth fell open. She turned to Matthew and the two of them just looked at each other absolutely dumbfounded. Mary couldn't believe it was happening herself, and didn't even remember rising to her feet with the rest of the table to applaud. Rooney got up and hugged Matthew before walking up on stage, a look of disbelief on her face as she accepted the trophy and turned to the audience.

 _"Umm, hi…"_ she mumbled, still dumbstruck.

Mary smiled during Rooney's speech. It was her automatic response whenever anyone won. Smile and act like you're happy for them. She did it for Henry numerous times. She did it for other actresses when she lost. She did it now to hide the screaming in her head. Seeing another actress up on stage accepting an award for a role that Matthew had written specifically for her, a role that she had turned down, it defied comprehension.

It didn't matter that she respected Rooney and thought her performance was brilliant. It didn't matter that the unexpected win reflected well on Matthew and his ability as a director to draw out an award-winning performance from his lead actress. All she could think of was the sheer audacity, the supreme unfairness of it all.

Things did not improve thereafter. Matthew lost in both of his categories, but he didn't particularly mind. Everyone knew that being nominated under the circumstances was already his triumph. In addition, normally quiet and reserved Rooney spent most of her acceptance speech singing Matthew's praises, and now at the after-party, they were essentially inseparable. Previously when Matthew won, Mary remained at his side and enjoyed the status of being a proud and supportive partner. Tonight, she felt strangely uncomfortable standing next to him, as if she was imposing somehow on the enjoyment of Rooney's win and his role in it.

"Vodka neat. Make it a double," Mary said tightly when she caught the attention of the bartender. When her drink was ready, she took the cocktail glass and left the crowded bar, wandering around until she found a quiet corner underneath the stars. The party was hosted on the vast patio of the hotel restaurant. The floor itself seemed to glow, and the HBO logo was ever present on the huge screen mounted along one wall. The setting was gorgeous, but she wasn't in the mood to appreciate the décor at the moment.

"Damn," she muttered, taking a long sip of her drink. She knew she was being petulant, which only made her feel even more annoyed.

"Mary."

She closed her eyes briefly, her mood going from annoyance to outright aggravation. The night seemed to be deliberately making her suffer now.

"Henry," she replied, not even bothering to turn around fully, just glancing at him over her shoulder.

"I was just congratulating Matthew and Rooney. I was surprised to see you weren't with them," Henry stated, flashing her that arrogant smile that she knew all too well.

"I was just getting a drink and some air," she answered, raising her glass.

"Oh, of course," Henry nodded. "Isn't it funny how things go? I mean, it could have been you up on that stage tonight instead of Rooney. Funny how that turned out, isn't it?"

"Hilarious," she spat, turning away from him.

He laughed with just enough mockery to make her grit her teeth. "Now, you did do a decent job on that French film. What was it called again? You've done so many that I've lost track. Ah, yes, _Duplicity_ , wasn't it?"

She didn't even bother replying.

"Yes, well, having a successful film or winning a Golden Globe. The two are rather comparable. I'm sure you're pleased with how your decision turned out, aren't you?" he pressed.

"Of course," she said coldly.

"Well," he continued, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Enjoy your evening, Mary. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other soon. I've been talking to the studio and they agree with me that there should be an epic love scene in the _Paladin_ film when you welcome me back from the dead. I expect it will be put in the script and be sufficiently steamy to give the people what they want. I hope they get all the details sorted soon because I really can't wait to get started. You're available whenever aren't you? What am I saying? Surely you are."

His kiss to her cheek felt like poison touching her skin. She clenched her fist tightly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of even acknowledging his harsh words. His laughter echoed in her ears as he departed, and she took another sip of her drink.

"Fuck," she snarled bitterly, fighting to hold back tears.

* * *

Matthew searched around one of the bars for some sign of Mary and found nothing. It was difficult for him to get a clear view as he kept getting stopped by another person who wanted to congratulate him on the success of _10 Days_. While it was really Rooney who deserved the praise tonight, he gracefully accepted the well wishes, trying his best to move people along, only to be waylaid moments later. Some of the people he was genuinely glad to see, as this was a rare chance to catch up with industry friends. Most, though, were somewhere between drunk and high, and wanted to add him to the list of people they had hugged, talked to, or gotten to follow them on social media.

Normally he was good at putting up with all of this, and he was genuinely happy for Rooney. Seeing her still in shock over her win was endearing, and every few minutes she would turn to him and just shake her head and ask him if this was all real. Still, he was able to get through parties like this because Mary helped him through them, and now he couldn't find her.

He couldn't help but feel a bit wistful over the entire situation. If Mary had signed on to the movie when he asked her to, who knows what would have happened? He had no doubt that she would have been brilliant in the role of Josephine. It was written for her, after all. While he had no way of knowing if they would have been nominated for awards or not, the last time he acted opposite her, he won an Oscar, so their track record was quite good.

Frowning, he still couldn't make her out in the crowd. Her red and black dress stood out amongst all the people here, but try as he might, she didn't appear to him. Shaking his head, he was forced to give up when Rooney tracked him down to go and talk to Harvey Weinstein. He smiled and went along to accept the congratulations from the famous studio executive, and hoped Mary would return shortly.

* * *

"There you are."

Mary swallowed and turned around, instantly putting on a brave smile at the sound of his voice. "Hello."

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?" Xavier noted, glancing up at the dark sky before smiling at her. "That's one thing that I do enjoy about California. The weather is always outstanding."

She nodded. "In this part of the state, yes. They get more rain in the North."

"Congratulations on all of Matthew's success," he continued. "It's quite the accomplishment to have such an acclaimed film as one's first directorial effort."

She smiled tightly. "Thank you. He worked very hard on it. It's wonderful to see him recognized, even if he didn't win."

"I expect he'll be nominated for an Oscar now, maybe two," he mused. "That alone is impressive, whether he wins or not."

"I hope so," she agreed. "It would continue this tremendous run he's been on for a few years now."

"Indeed," he replied.

She took another sip of her drink, the alcohol sinking in, though her mind was already too jumbled to notice. "How was your week otherwise?"

"Quite good, actually. I met up with several distributors who are interested in doing business in France. I also may have found someone to star in Paul's next film," he stated.

She blinked. "Is that so?"

"Possibly. We've been looking at alternative plans in case you decide to pass on the project. You know that you're the first choice, but we can't wait forever, as you can appreciate," he smiled.

"No, of course not," she said slowly. "And you're merely being prudent. After all, I do have much to consider myself."

"You're in an enviable position," he said. "With Matthew's recent track record, there's every likelihood that he'll be back here next year nominated for the film you made together."

She arched her eyebrow in thought, the idea having not occurred to her until he mentioned it. "Well, that would certainly be an honour."

"Excuse me for a moment," he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out his phone. "I have to take this."

She nodded and sipped the last of her drink, watching him as he spoke quickly in French to whoever had called him.

Her eyes wandered over his perfectly tailored suit, the lines of his tall frame well-proportioned beneath the charcoal fabric. She recalled the way he looked when she was at his home in Paris, his broad shoulders and firm chest, arms that were strong and fit. He was in far better shape than most politicians, she expected, or even most men his age. When she danced with him, he was confident and smooth, guiding her the way he wanted. He had a way about him, as though he was used to getting what he wanted and knew he would. His dark skin seemed to take on a caramel hue in the bright lights all around them, contrasting against the night sky, making him seem even more exotic.

Her addled brain pondered what was so alluring about this man, why she continued her association with him, and in turn, to Paul and Jean-Paul and the rest of them. He had asked for, no, demanded sex in return for his support. It wasn't any different from Henry and his promises to elevate her career if they took their showmance to the next level, or Tony and his fantasies of her. Why did she shun those two, abhor them even, while still playing the game with Xavier?

He gave her an apologetic smile before turning away and continuing his call, his posture straight and rigid. The long fingers of his one hand were poised on his hip, his gold ring shining in the lights. Was it the money? He was willing to pay 30 million euros for a liaison with her. The very idea was disgusting, so why had she gotten over it so easily?

Her eyes narrowed, a series of thoughts crossing her mind. When she was a child, she was drawn to acting because that's what Granny and Mum did, but she found she enjoyed it because it was an escape. She got to pretend to be someone else. As she grew older and took her craft more seriously, she threw herself into each project, learning the nuances and subtle shifts that separated someone who was just reciting lines from someone who could become any character. To this day, she loved that part of her job the most – researching and breaking down a role and making it her own.

Change into someone else, someone completely different.

In her tipsy and self-pitying state, her imagination ran rampant with ideas. Unlike Henry and Tony, Xavier was new. He didn't know the real her, hadn't known her growing up and had no insight into her beyond what she was willing to let him see. She could be anyone she wanted to be with him.

He didn't know her as an actress desperately trying to live up to the family legacy. He wasn't aware of just how crushed she was to lose out on awards time and again, or be passed over for lead parts. He had no idea of the pain she felt at being surpassed by Matthew, shoved aside in the wake of his meteoric rise.

She could forget herself with him.

Giving in to Henry or Tony would feel shameful, a horrible defeat after all the time and effort she spent trying to stand on her own while rejecting their advances. Allowing herself to be seduced by either of them was to surrender, to admit they were better, that she needed them to fulfil some dark desire in herself, if only for a night. They would have that over her forever after that, knowing they managed to snare her. It was entirely unacceptable.

Her mind wandered back to Xavier's home in Paris, being alone with him in his gallery, sitting on the sofa and looking at the art, dancing with him at the private parties, drinking and enjoying his company during the masquerade. She enjoyed her time with him because to him, she was still a star. Henry wanted a conquest. Tony wanted a trophy. Xavier wanted a mistress, but also someone to work with, to show off as an icon of French cinema.

He was a convenient outlet, someone she could use to get what she wanted. Before, it was his support, his pledge to help Jean-Paul finance her movies. Tonight, as she wallowed in the state of her career and her mistake of choosing _Duplicity_ over _10 Days_ , she needed something else.

She needed to be someone other than Lady Mary Crawley. She needed to be someone so completely the opposite of who she was, do something so outrageous and lose herself in it. The lure of leaving that woman behind, the actress who had so much talent and potential but always seemed to be just shy of getting what she wanted, was drawing her in. Wouldn't it be glorious to be bound to nothing and no one? To do anything she wanted with anyone she wanted?

She licked her lips, a jolt of arousal warming her and quickening her pulse.

"Forgive me, _Marie_ ," Xavier apologized, putting his phone away. "I promised some of the people that I met this week that we would have drinks tonight and trying to coordinate with them all is a challenge."

"You're always about business, aren't you?" she smiled.

"Not always," he smirked. "But I always am thinking of many plans. It is important not to be caught out so that I can take advantage of every opportunity."

"Such as?" she asked.

"Such as you need another drink," he nodded, reaching over and taking her empty cocktail glass from her hands.

She laughed and nodded.

"My business contacts are at the NBC party just on the other side of the hotel," he explained. "Would you like to come and meet them? They already know you from _Duplicity_. It would do both of us well to meet with them just to have a few drinks and charm them a bit."

"Business contacts," she repeated.

"They're big fans of yours, also," he nodded.

She laughed at that. "That's very sweet. I'm afraid I have to decline. I need to get back to Matthew."

He frowned. "I expect he's still busy with Rooney and his adoring fans? He can spare you for one drink, can't he? You're already over here on your own."

"Which is why I need to get back," she shrugged. "He's rather clueless at these things without me there to guide him. I expect he'll need rescuing right about now."

She leaned towards him and traded cheek kisses before drawing back.

"I'm sorry to hear that, _Marie_ ," he said tightly.

"Perhaps another time," she smiled. "For now, duty calls."

He nodded.

"Have a wonderful evening and a safe flight back. We'll talk soon," she assured him, patting his hand before she left him and disappeared into the crowd.

 **Rented Home of Mary Crawley and Matthew Crawley, Hollywood Hills, Los Angeles, California, USA, January 6, 2020**

"God, please get me out of this dress," Mary begged. She dragged herself into the ensuite bathroom and leaned over the vanity. Groaning in protest, she wiped off her makeup and splashed her face, all while her husband stood in the doorway watching on in bemusement.

"This should be shown as a cautionary tale to everyone who gushes over the red carpet fashions," he joked, coming over and sliding the hidden zipper of her dress down her back. Opening it up, he pressed a light kiss to the back of her neck before he eased the dress off her shoulders and down to her hips.

"It's just like a man to make fun of the plight of women in this business," she grumbled. She removed the double-sided tape from her breasts and tossed them in the bin. "I'd like to see you wear a thong all night and try and be chipper by the end of it."

"The thong I could probably manage, barely," he mused. "It's the heels that would do me in."

"Clearly," she scoffed, shimmying her hips to slide the dress down to the floor. She stepped out of it and bent over to pick it up. "Don't wrinkle it, please."

He chuckled and took the garment from her, hanging it up for safekeeping until it was returned tomorrow. Coming back to Mary, he helped her remove her diamond jewellery and stow it away in the lockbox provided to them. Her dress and diamonds cost nearly $500,000 and were loaned to her for free. Thankfully the security guards would not be coming by tonight to retrieve it all. In Mary's current mood, the last thing he needed was to deal with that.

"What a night," she sighed, walking away from him and going back out into the bedroom wearing just her thong. "You had fun, I trust?"

"You didn't?" he asked, smiling as he followed her out.

She groaned and got into bed, pulling the duvet over her.

"Of course, I did," she nodded. "It's just that tonight was all about you and Rooney, and given how popular you were, I would expect you had a good time, is all."

He stripped down to his underwear and joined her. She automatically turned so he could spoon behind her, his arm resting across her front. He kissed her shoulder and chuckled.

"What's so funny?" she frowned.

"You," he answered, smoothing the hair away from her face before kissing her cheek. "You can't stand that she won, can you?"

She blinked in confusion and turned her head to look at him. The past couple of hours had sobered her up a bit but she was still quite drunk.

"What are you talking about? I'm glad she won! I'm glad for both of you," she objected.

"Yes, I know you are, but that could have been you up there, and understandably that would bother you," he replied.

She turned in his hold, facing him and arching her eyebrow. "What are you saying? You think I'm petty, do you?"

He smirked. "You're human."

She rolled her eyes. "So this is your time to gloat, is it? Fine, have a go then. Tell me what an idiot I was for turning down the role and how tonight I got my comeuppance. Go on!"

He took hold of her head, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were fiery and defiant, but he knew better.

"You are not an idiot," he said firmly. "I was angry tonight when I didn't win, too."

She scoffed. "You were not! You were gracious and said all the right things. Everything is all a bonus for you. You're the nice one of us two, obviously. Everyone knows that."

He smirked. "Darling, I may be nice, but that doesn't mean I don't think I'm ten times the director that stupid idiot who won is."

Her mouth fell open in shock. "What did you just say? Did Matthew Crawley, friend to all, just call another director an idiot?"

"Well, he may not be an idiot, but his movie was quite idiotic," he huffed. "I don't understand how pointing the camera at Jennifer Lawrence qualifies as outstanding directing."

She laughed incredulously. "My word, darling. Who is this scoundrel who I've brought into my bed?"

"You of all people ought to know that I can be just as petty as anyone," he scoffed.

"I don't believe that, but thank you for the effort," she grinned, kissing him lightly. "You don't need to act like a rogue, darling. One of us has to be upstanding after all. Besides, I like that you're a good man. There's not enough of them around, believe me."

"What about Xavier? Is he a good man?" he asked.

She blinked in surprise.

"I saw you with him tonight," he continued.

She pursed her lips. "He found me."

"And what did he want?" he asked.

"Just made small talk, and invited me to meet some of his colleagues for a drink," she admitted.

He nodded. "And what did you think of that?"

"I always enjoy his company," she nodded, her breath catching.

"He enjoys yours, surely," he replied. "You do know his offer wasn't so innocent, don't you?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"And what did you think about it?" he asked.

She swallowed.

"You liked it, didn't you?" he pressed. "You liked the attention."

She nodded slowly.

"I like it too, you know," he said, his eyes holding hers captive. "All these pretty young things swarming around me, telling me how great I am, it's quite addictive."

Her eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"Women were throwing themselves at me at the parties tonight," he smirked. "I haven't even checked my Instagram yet. There must be countless DMs. Some probably sent nudes."

She growled and pushed him on to his back. Throwing her leg across him, she straddled his thighs and pushed his arms down.

"Don't you dare think about even looking at one of those sluts or I'll cut your bollocks off," she snarled, glaring down at him.

He chuckled and smiled up at her. "Why did you turn down Xavier's offer tonight?"

"Because I don't want him!" she snapped. "I'm not Mabel. I'm not some bitch that he can pay for and do whatever he wants. I'm Lady Mary Crawley!"

He nodded, rubbing his hips against hers playfully. "And?"

"And…and…" she sputtered, the alcohol and his teasing obliterating all inhibitions. "And I'm far too good for him! I'm a better actress than Rooney, than everyone there tonight! I'm worth more than 30 million euros and a starring role in another French film. I'm better than that!"

He grinned. "Says who?"

"I say so!" she sneered. "Fuck the Hollywood Foreign Press and anyone else who doesn't think I'm worthy of some stupid trophy!"

He laughed. "I love you."

"You better!" she leaned down and kissed him hard. "You're the only man I want. You're mine."

"Till death do us part, my darling," he smiled against her lips.

She pushed his arms into the mattress and shoved her tongue into his mouth. Moaning as she writhed against him, she kissed him frantically, grinding her hips against his.

He resisted taking control despite his arousal urging him to put her on her back. When she finally released his mouth and kissed her way down his body, he raised up to watch, a smug smile on his face.

* * *

"I don't know how you get me to say such things," she wondered, closing her eyes and leaning back against his chest as the hot water poured down over them. "It must be the alcohol."

"Say what things?" he joked, soaping her stomach and moving up to her breasts.

"You're well aware," she retorted, sighing from his warm touch. "You make me behave so depraved sometimes."

"Do you regret it?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.

"No," she shook her head. "I just don't want you to think poorly of me."

"Hey," he said gently, turning her around to look at him. "I would never think poorly of you. You believe in yourself. You think you're the best in the business. There's nothing wrong with that. I want you to feel that way."

"You don't want to be married to a stuck-up bitch who's full of herself, surely?" she frowned.

"I'm not married to any such woman," he smiled. "And for the record, I think you're better than Rooney, too."

She hummed and hugged him, closing her eyes and kissing his chest. "Don't you want me to be nicer, though?"

"We can all be nicer, but you're nice enough when it matters," he assured her.

"Do you think I'll ever be satisfied?" she whispered. "Do you think I'll ever be able to just appreciate what I've got, what I've done?"

"Yes," he answered. "And you'll turn to the next goal because that's who you are. You're driven, and there's nothing wrong with that."

She breathed in his scent, relaxing as he ran his hands up and down her back.

"Let's go to sleep, yes?" he suggested.

 **Waldorf Astoria Beverly Hills, Beverly Hills, California, USA, February 6, 2020**

"So great to see you two!"

Mary smiled and nodded. "Great to see you again, too. Thanks so much for coming."

"Oh no worries! No worries! This space is incredible! I just love it here. It seemed most of the junkets were at the Four Seasons for a while, but more and more are coming here and it's great. The food is so good!"

Matthew grinned. "Well, they treat us well here, though the other places are just as good. Whatever makes people comfortable."

"I am more than comfortable," the reporter laughed. "Now, I'm sure you've answered this a million times already, but what was it like to work together again?"

Mary glanced at Matthew. That was always the opening question in these interviews. Having been at it for hours already, they were well prepared.

"You know, everyone does ask us that, but it really wasn't particularly different from working with anyone else," she began. "The thing about Matthew is that I don't see him as my husband on set. He's another actor, and on this film he was my director, but I think what helps us work so well together is that he knows me better than anyone else. I'm very comfortable working with him because we've known each other for so long in a professional context. We've been acting together since we were children. So that's what makes it special."

"We're very clear about setting boundaries between our lives at work and our lives at home," Matthew continued. "We know that we can say anything to each other on set and that we're both committed to doing our best work. That's what counts."

"Right, right. That's cool. Now, you filmed _Damocles_ while all this other stuff was going on, if I have it correctly. Mary, you had a great year last year, and Matthew you were just nominated for two Oscars. Does that ever enter into your minds when you're working? Because obviously as spouses, you know all about what's going on with each other."

"I don't think about it, no," Matthew shook his head. "I know she's great already, so anything that kind of comes up is just confirming what I already know."

Mary smiled. "Well, I always expect him to come up with something brilliant since he's an Oscar winner and all."

The reporter cackled.

"You can't allow yourself to get too distracted with all of that," she elaborated. "It was the same with working with Denzel. You can't be in awe of anyone. We're all actors trying to do our best, and Matthew was great about having a relaxed atmosphere on set. No one stepped out line or anything like that."

"Speaking of Denzel, Matthew, you've often said he's one of your acting role models. What was it like not only working with him but directing him also?"

"Denzel was great. I had to get used to giving him instructions and all that, but he was great to work with. I think he's going to surprise a lot of people with this role, because he plays a very powerful man, but also more emotional and insecure than what people are used to seeing from him," Matthew replied.

"It's a very un-Denzel like character," Mary smiled.

"From the materials that I've read, it seems all the characters are kind of unconventional. Like, Damocles is the hero, but he's not really a hero, and so on. Is that accurate, Mary? How would you describe your character?"

"She's a piece of work, yes," Mary laughed. "Astrid is very much a villainess, yes, but she has her moments where I think the audience will feel sorry for her a little bit, or at least understand why she does what she does. She's also the love interest in the story, so that's interesting, because usually the woman is this damsel who needs to be rescued or whatever, and that's not the case with her. She is who she is and Damocles loves her anyway, which is a refreshing take, I find."

"So he ends up with her in the end, you're saying?"

Mary shared a smile with Matthew. "We can't tell you that."

"Oh, come on! Matthew, the two of them have to be together, right? You wouldn't write a script where you and Mary's characters don't end up as a couple, would you?"

Matthew glanced at Mary. "We get to go home together afterwards, so that's more than enough. What happens on set is for the story, so anything can happen."

"That's right. Anything is possible in the movie. When we leave, that's when we go back to being ourselves," Mary echoed.

 **Home of Mary and Matthew Crawley, Cumberland Terrace, Regent's Park, London, England, March 19, 2020**

"Aunt Rosamund is worried that you might be late, and so am I," Matthew called, coming into the bedroom.

"Oh, we've got loads of time, darling," Mary rolled her eyes, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. "It isn't as if they'll start without us."

"I just don't want to keep people waiting too long. Denzel is already on his way," he grumbled.

"Yes, mustn't keep Denzel waiting," Mary teased, smiling at Sybil and Anna. "He may not return your calls if you aren't careful."

He rolled his eyes.

"We're almost done, darling," Sybil assured him. "Go on downstairs and show Tom your SAG Award or something."

"Why would Tom be interested in that?" Mary questioned. "The only Best Director awards that count are the Golden Globe and the Oscar. Everyone knows that."

"Just hurry up, please," he implored her, turning for the door.

"We'll get her finished up right away, promise," Anna called, winding the curling iron through Mary's hair.

They all laughed when Matthew stomped off, his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he headed for the stairs.

"That was a bit mean," Sybil whinged.

"He's fine," Mary replied. "I can't let him have it too easy. He's going to have an entire mob chanting his name when we get to the theatre."

"I'm sure you'll have your fair share of fans, too," Anna reminded her. "The advance reviews have been gushing over you."

"Not just me," Mary arched her eyebrow. "Some people are already giving Matthew all the awards for next year."

"Denzel, too," Sybil noted. "I haven't read a bad word yet."

"Well, we'll see. Critical acclaim is all well and good, but seeing as Matthew financed the entire thing, I'd at least like to see him make his money back," Mary said.

"Obviously. Someone has to pay for this house," Sybil joked.

Mary rolled her eyes.

"All right, I'm going to go grab Tom and get going. We'll see you over there. Good luck," Sybil smiled, leaning in and kissing her sister on the cheek.

"Thank you, darling. Do try and keep Edith from accosting anyone this time, please," Mary requested.

"No promises. If Jonathan Rhys Meyers shows up, I might go into early labour," Sybil joked.

"He is showing up. I told Edith to keep you away from him," Mary called.

Sybil scoffed and headed out.

"There, what do you think?" Anna asked, pulling the curling iron away.

"Perfect, Anna, thank you," Mary smiled, turning her head to admire the waves in her hair. "You're a life saver."

"Well, it's not Ivy's fault that the hair people got sick," Anna shrugged.

"No, it's not, but all the same, I'll be glad when July gets here," Mary smirked, getting up from her chair and checking over her dress in the mirror.

"I just wish I was coming with you to Cannes. I bet it'll be fantastic," Anna nodded.

"It can be, yes," Mary nodded. "Matthew and I haven't been there together before so that'll be new for us."

"All the better considering that Xavier and that lot will be around as well," Anna said.

Mary smiled. "I can handle them, although I must say that jealous Matthew can be quite exciting to be with."

They both laughed.

"Lady Rosamund was filling me in earlier. I can't believe that you'll have to put up with Henry and Tony come September," Anna sighed.

"Don't forget lovely Mabel," Mary shook her head. "I'm sure she'll be around at least for a little while. The most important thing is that Tony has a new assistant."

"True, although I'm sure Alex wouldn't mind having that one arrested if he were to ever set foot in Toronto again," Anna said.

"Better that we do not have to deal with that possibility at all," Mary shook her head. "Anyway, it's all preliminary still. Aunt Rosamund gave the studio my list of demands and so far they haven't said no. Anything can happen between now and September. Until I'm actually on set and the slate says _Paladin – The Movie_ , I'm not counting on anything."

They went downstairs to the first floor, where Mary had converted the large space into a drawing room and sitting room. She brought a few pieces from Downton to give the rooms a unique touch, including a gorgeous armoire that Granny used when she was younger. All of their trophies were on display in a towering vintage cabinet that she had refurbished with glass doors and hidden pot lights. Alex and Matthew were standing over by the large bay window.

"Well? Chop, chop! We can't be late, you know!" Mary called.

Matthew shared a knowing look with Alex before slapping hands and tapping fists with his friend.

"See you there," Alex nodded, taking Anna's hand and guiding her down the stairs to the foyer.

"You can be horrid when you want to be, you know that?" Matthew asked, coming over and taking his wife in his arms.

"I know, but you love me, don't you?" she smirked.

"Madly," he nodded, kissing her softly. "But we do need to get moving."

"All right, lead on, Mr Director," she teased, taking his arm and following him towards the stairs.

As they went down to the ground floor, she looked over to the dining room thoughtfully.

"What is it?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"Oh, nothing," she shook her head, smiling at him as they made their way out the door to the waiting limo.

"Mary? What?" he frowned.

She looked up at him and smiled. "I was just thinking that we still haven't christened the dining room, have we?"

He blinked. "Erm…no, not that I can recall."

"Hmm. I suppose we ought to get to that at some point," she remarked lightly.

He swallowed, lowering his voice as he nodded to the driver standing patiently at the kerb holding the door open. "Yes. Yes, we should."

Placing her hand on the top of the limo, she looked over her shoulder at him and gave him a sultry glance. "Maybe tonight, if you're a good boy."

He watched her elegantly slide into the car and take her seat at the far window.

"Right, then," he mumbled, scrambling in after her. "To tonight."

 **fin**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Many thanks to all my readers, particularly those who began the trilogy from the first chapter of _Six Months of Summer_. Your reviews, favourites and follows are always a joy to receive. This saga is now complete, with Mary and Matthew going forward together, Alex and Anna happy with children and just enough left unanswered for there to be endless possibilities, which is really what life is all about, isn't it? While this story is done, for those who are wondering, and for those who care, I'm not finished with Mary and Matthew yet.


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